Claustrophobia
by JabberjayHeart
Summary: "I've always thought outside of the box. I get the theme and take it to a complete other level, going the distance to not be... cliché." Welcome to the 115th Hunger Games!
1. The Ruler and The Killer Part One

**The Ruler and The Killer Part One.**

_Nothing okay, to the ruler and the killer baby._

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**Claustrophobia - The 115th Hunger Games.**

**Head Gamemaker Felidae Glass.**

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Nothing could ruin today. Absolutely nothing.

I breathe again in the mirror and straighten out my pant suit. I've been waiting for this day to come for ages now. Well, it feels like ages. It's always been hard doing things when the President is right underneath your nose, constantly checking your every move with a keen eye. Another shaky breath comes out. I wonder if she's arrived? No-one has told me anything, and in a sense, I'm glad for that. Right now, knowing she's here, that'd only make me more nervous.

But this is my day. Not hers, but mine. The woman is magnificent, but it can't always be about her.

I check the mirror once more - this time running a hand through my silver, spiky locks - before readjusting the rose on my lapel.

Today is my wedding.

But not just any wedding. Oh no. Today is the rest of my life with my wife, and together, we'll be the first ever lesbian couple to be wed underneath the eyes of our friends, family, colleagues and Panem-royalty.

The door opens a tad and my nephew, Leon, peeks in.

"She's arrived," he squeaks, voice rather high for his age and gender. I look at him with uncertainty. "And she isn't alone either, Aunt Felidae."

My heart hiccups in my chest and everything feels blurry.

"More white-haired people?" I choke out.

He nods, and that sends my mind spiralling. It's one thing to invite the President of Panem to your wedding - despite being her Head Gamemaker - but for her to bring out the unknown family members? That's almost legendary. It means she must expect a lot from this. A lot more than I anticipated. Leon slips out again and closes the door, but it doesn't go all the way. Curiosity gets the better of me and I walk over, peeking through the gap at the crowd.

Anyone whose someone is in this audience. I say audience like it's a show, but really, it is. Me and Rahne are the first lesbian couple to actually wed. Many gay couples have, sure, but lesbians are another thing - we're almost like a dying breed. But being the Head Gamemaker for the last five years - including this year - has meant that, no matter my sexuality, I've been accepted for my keen mind and clear conscious. I catch a glimpse of curly hair and know instantly that Hermes Abbatone has arrived - he's one of the anyone whose someone I was on about, but he almost happens to be the top talkshow host in the Capitol. His commentating partner, Gregor, is nearby too, china-white face and rosy cheeks.

My fellow Gamemakers are out there too. Sterling, my second-in-command, is on the front row, and I'm almost sick with the sight of him. I do not and will never like Sterling. He might be my second-in-command, but I make sure that his tasks are minimal, just so he has no chance of impressing someone for the righted promotion and my resignation. The Mutts expert, Liole, is next to him, followed by Lenore and her ability to create quick and simple traps to exterminate the tributes that cause trouble. My whole team is out there. I might not like them all - I don't like many people anyway - but as their boss, I have a duty to invite them all, just for looks, really.

A blur of white hair passes the crack in the door and I flinch. I study the figure carefully and deduce that it must be Esmeralda's husband, Keller. He is, so far, her fourth husband, the others having mysteriously died at an early age, as well as being ten years her junior. He not only dyed his hair to become white - to match the rest of the pristine family - but he also took her name, not the other way around. Each marriage has left Esmeralda and her husband with separate names. Then, they would die, and it wouldn't matter. Keller, however, is now officially Keller Snow, husband of Esmeralda Snow. I've never met him personally; but I hear he's like a shark, all calm until he snaps, but that smile and those eyes lie something else.

A smaller blur appears next to him and they stand together, chatting quietly.

Esmeralda's son, Theodore. He's young - around ten I believe - and is just as famous as his mother. Why? There are so many tales of him being egotistical, a meglomaniac, and many more. His small frame is home to a large ego that he, apparently, enjoys to force people to stroke. Nobody knows who his father is - it could have been any of the three husbands before Keller, because really, Esmeralda's pregnancy happened when husband number three died and before Keller arrived. I guess Theodore just presumes Keller is his father.

Together, the three of them make a blissful family. A family I've never met, and apparently, am about to get the chance too.

Right now, the pressure is on.

I breathe through my teeth again and try to fight the bubbling sickness and nerves. It's my wedding, and yet, an act of kindness and maybe some superiority has left me with an overwhelming sense of negativity on a day that is suppose to be positive. I back away from the door and close it gently, only for the wooden door to fly out again. Then, I'm face-to-face with her. Esmeralda Snow. Her mere sight can push anyone into a verbal coma, but me and Esmeralda have had a more... closer relationship than she did with her previous Head Gamemakers. Before me was Knightley Knox, who lasted until the One Hundred and Tenth Hunger Games before eventually quitting, that year being his last. I took over for the One Hundred and Eleventh.

She gently opens her arms and ushers me into them for a brief hug. She's pushing me away as quickly as she hugged me, hands on my shoulders. I look her in the eyes and, for once, I can see a glint of what must be genuine sadness.

"I'm happy for you Felidae, and I'm happy you invited me today."

I gulp harshly and smile. "And thank you for coming. It's a real honor that you chose to come, I uh, I didn't think you'd be free."

"For you, my dear, I'd clear the schedule. Can I ask whether you're taking Rahne's last name or whether her yours?"

"She's taking mine. Felidae and Rahne Glass." I reply with confidence.

I smile again and Esmeralda laughs - a little too brightly - as her hands dip into her breast pocket. She pulls forth a small piece of white paper and hands it to me.

"As you know, Felidae, the Games are coming up once more. I trust that you are ready for your theme this year?" I stare carefully at the words that spell out _Claustrophobia_, nodding when I see Esmeralda has moved towards the small couch, brushing her fingers along the top. "I want an arena designed around this theme. Take it as you wish, just like you've always done."

Last year's theme was _Fire_, and the year before that, it was _Poison_. Simple themes that allowed my mind to flood with creativity.

_Fire_'s arena was an ice arena that, eventually, began to wear away as the heat from lava underneath melted everything. Snow went to water. Ice to water. The snowy mountain made of snow that peaked the entire arena melted and almost drowned everyone. Not to mention that the cold from the ice and snow on their feet and bodies boded well with the heated temperature; throwing their bodily systems off-balance.

_Poison_'s arena was even more beautiful. They were trapped in a house where the air was tainted, giving them limited time. The shortest but most brutal Games I've ever seen done. Everyone was too busy panicking, attacking each other with their fingernails, crashing their heads against concrete walls... we had a Victor, Elesa Azel from District Five, but the poison permanently messed up her lungs. The Capitol fixed them like they always do - but her voice is now quiet and she can't strain it so much.

I've always thought outside of the box. I get the theme and take it to a complete other level, going the distance to not be... cliché.

She never done themes before - but when she promoted me to Head Gamemaker, she loved my creativity and went above challenging me to see how well I'd perform. For the last four years now - this being my fifth term - I've performed well. But this word doesn't bring any instant lightbulbs or sparks of ideas. It brings me... nothing.

That is what scares me the most.

"I hope that it isn't too hard for you, Felidae," Esmeralda says quietly, her voice becoming rather haunting. "I'd hate for you to mess up when you've only recently got married. It'd be such a shame to marr a great start to the year with such an appauling failure."

I beg for the creativity to come, but it doesn't. In the end, I'm left with a piece of paper, like a lifeline, shaking in my hands, a sense of uselessness washing over me. I look up finally and she glances briefly at me.

"Have a great wedding."

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Before we start, a review for this chapter would still be appreciated!

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_Please look at the prologue for either **'Blood Thicker Than Water'** or **'Wild One'** to read up about the backstory and aftermath of why the Games continued and Katniss died. This verse is called the EsmeraldaVerse - following the Games - but I don't want to keep repeating the story. If you're unsure, it's there on either of those stories, first chapter! It'll explain everything and give you an understanding. That way, you aren't clueless about everything. As I say below, I'm trying to world-build here. As guessed, this is the third instalment in EsmeraldaVerse, and I would prefer if you knew the backstory and everything, so please go and look if you haven't._

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We have jumped ten years from when **Wild One** is set. I did this because I wanted to introduce newer Victors, newer faces and so forth.

Plus, it won't interfere with **Wild One** then, since the Victor is never decided until last moment.

The arena will be kept a secret until the bloodbath.

The form is once again on my profile, and once again, I ask you PM the form with the title of the message being something along the lines of **Claustrophobia**, **Tribute for SYOT**, or something, something to tell me that it is indeed for my newest SYOT, just so I can still see the other forms and messages and such. Makes it easier to search for references, too. A tribute list is also on my profile. If the spot says: **Collected**, then you cannot submit for that tribute. If it's blank, it's open.

I don't have many positions left open. Only five, actually. Every next SYOT I complete, the reservations and form requests just seem to flood in... a lot of people do miss out, and I'm sorry for that. I try to rotate as much as possible so that people get a chance at some point. I never not do these. If you miss out this once, I can guarantee you there will be more times in the future. I have many arena ideas I want to use eventually!

I have some pickiness concerning tributes:

_Names - names are important to me. Everyone has different tastes - and as long as it meets my taste - it'll be fine. It needs to represent themselves and, sometimes, their districts. Unusual names are great, too, but don't go and butcher an unusual name with an unusual spelling. I've had a tribute called 'Danyelle' before, and it's so bad I wanted to cry. Names like 'Jasmine' or 'Liam' will be ignored. Be original; but be thoughtful. _(I've been dubbed a name whore... you know who you are -.-)

_Ages - certain ages are expected. For all of you who have the Career positions, I don't like Careers younger than 16! 16, 17 or 18 only. I'm not too fond of 12 year olds in general - not guaranteed bloodbaths, but I struggle to portray them perfectly - but one might be okay. It all depends. I'm fussy on looks; so when I put all the tributes down with their ages, I want a balance of ages. You might be asked to age your tribute up or down if this is the case. People seem to create older tributes, which is fine, but at the same time, I need balance for realism._

_Compromise - I want good tributes. Not perfect, but good. Sometimes I will need you to change things. People who are unwilling to change slight things will be ignored and rejected. People who get rude over me wanting to edit their tribute will also be ignored - I've had you people before -.-_

_Submitting then leaving - don't bother submitting if you know you have a busy life where you won't read/review/whatever for weeks on end. Everyone has lives, yes, but don't go and make a character and, on that, make a contract with me, knowing you can't live up to it. On that note: **no recycled tributes**. I do know if they are, I keep a track on many other SYOTs. If the SYOT, however, did fail at some point and your character was never used, then feel free to submit them, but please tell me that so I know._

No Katniss-tributes.

_No volunteers from an outer district without a** decent**, **realistic** reason given - tributes that volunteer for younger siblings or friends will be ignored, too._

_All lookalikes must be reasonable; a twenty-five year old woman will not look like a fifteen year old tribute. Age appropriate, please. 17-18 tributes have more leeway._

_Also, no making family or friends as Victors, please. I have created every single slot for this world and, actually, each one has been mentioned or heard from. I want it to be fluent. With this, please be careful about family/friends who have **died** in a previous year, since it might clash with other tales. I'm kinda pass it since BTTW..._


	2. The Ruler and The Killer Part Two

**The Ruler and The Killer Part Two.**

_Nothing okay, to the ruler and the killer baby._

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**Claustrophobia - The 115th Hunger Games.**

**Head Gamemaker Felidae Glass.**

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I can't seem to think straight. For once in the entire time I have worked under Esmeralda Snow, she has threatened me. I'm not one of those rebellious or terrified Gamemakers that she has to glare at to do what she wants - I went out for lunch with her many times, for god sake - so why threaten both me and Rahne? That pushed the line. That was something that was uncalled for; of course I would do a good job, I have never failed!

The slight fear is suddenly burned away by the rage in the pits of my stomach. I rip up the paper she handed to me, flustered and annoyed as I scatter the note into the burning fireplace much like ashes of a loved one. Claustrophobia. I can work with that - I have no inspiration now, but I can. I did it before, I can do it again. I have never failed her - we're like friends - and I will not be pushed around because she thinks I'm incapable of my job. I refuse, completely refuse, to be threatened and treated like a four-year-old by a person whose job has only ever been sleeping around and controlling things with an iron fist. She'll never hear these words, but it doesn't make the facts less true.

I run a hand through my hair and try to compose myself, sorting out my suit. I walk over to the door and peek out once more, watching the family of white-haired royalties take their seats. Everyone bows and curtseys for the woman and her child and her new baby daddy, before taking their own seats.

I'm sure most people would be scared, trying their hardest to please the woman.

I guess I'm different; instead of scared, I'm more pissed off the fact that she feels she can pull a stunt like that, on my wedding day no less!

She might be Panem importance, but she's just inappropriate.

There's a slight knock at my door, taking my heart with every tiny thud. I hear the faint music drifting through the cracks of the door and I breathe slowly, stepping forward and opening it up. The scene is still beautiful. All the eyes turn around to face me, the soft faces of my friends and relatives, even the people I don't particularly like. Everyone has smiles - whether false or true - and that brightens my mood. I try to avoid eye contact with Esmeralda at the front, but her eyes are glaring and bright, trying to pierce through my mind.

I try to look away, but I'm almost compelled to not. It's like I'm being hypnotised. It's not true, obviously - Esmeralda is grand but not mystical - but the fear only bubbles underneath her watch. I crack a smile on my face, trying my best to actually bring back the glory of the day.

I slowly begin to walk down the aisle, white and pink flowers dotted on either side, rows of wooden benches for the guests. An archway is at the end, the pink flowers scaling the frame.

Esmeralda is at the front, and when she turns around, I instantly know she's looking back at the bridesmaids. Each of them are Rahne's friends - I don't think I have anyone whom I fully can trust and like for that role, whereas Rahne is friendly and fun, the perfect friend to anyone. Each of their dresses are violet, a contrast to the lighter colours.

When I reach the end, I turn around and place my hands in front, watching on with happiness, though I'm not sure whether I'm forcing it anymore.

Today was my day, and Esmeralda managed to steal that from me. She's never pulled a stunt like this before, so why now? That's a question I can't answer.

The music stops abruptly and everyone rises, everyone apart from Esmeralda and her family. That's when Rahne - lavender hair long and flowing, like a purple minnow - turns the corner in her dress. It takes my breath away and makes me truly smile for the first time since the day had begun. I can't even worry about Esmeralda staring at me so daringly because Rahne is the only thing I see. All the flowers, the guests, the music... it all fades in comparison to Rahne. It's like she's the only one in this room. She literally takes my breath away.

And that's when it hits me.

Rahne literally takes my breath away, she... she suffocates me just from her sight.

It's like I can't breathe.

Like it's all claustrophobic.

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The more and more I think about it - the pressure building - the more and more my feelings and my confidence falls, shredded in tiny fragments.

I don't feel as confident anymore.

The after-party is relaxed and calm, the groups of Capitolites all gathered up, talking, smiling, dancing lightly to the gentle music. There's no buffet; I know most of these people don't even like to eat, period. Rahne is too busy talking to one of her best friends, her bridesmaid, and then there's me, just stood here. I don't have any real family I like. My parents are dead and my siblings - a brother and a sister, happily married and with children, Leon being one of many nephews and nieces - are rather bitter against my sexuality. They came, but only begrudgingly. I wouldn't be surprised if they haven't both left already, snatching away the children that I actually care about. For now, it's just me and Rahne.

If anything, that's why I chose to become a Gamemaker and then worked myself up to the Head Gamemaker spot. I have no family that requires commitment, and that means no leverage or people to use against me. I know what the job requires and what Esmeralda does in terms of dirty tricks - even though she's never done it to me before, well, until now - so it seemed almost perfect.

Then I met Rahne, but in a way, I only allowed Rahne in because Esmeralda had never played me like she did many of the others. Knightley Knox, the Head Gamemaker before me, she often used his child against him, that was no secret. I had nothing she could use... not until now.

I see her glistening white locks in the distance, dancing ever so slowly with Keller, whilst her son looks on with disdain.

With her presence around me, it feels like I'm being suffocated by invisible hands.

I guess that makes another idea for me. The idea of a powerful figure threatening you is enough to make your throat seize up.

Now the ideas are flooding in and, in turn, the anxiety is flooding out.

"I can hear the gears in your mind turning, Felidae," I hear a sharp voice, shocking me from my thoughts. I turn to the coldness, face-to-face with Esmeralda. "Does that mean you have something in mind?"

"Possibly." I reply quietly.

She hums in agreement and leans forward, her breath ghosting over my ear. "Rahne looks positively fabulous. I'd hate for something to happen to her."

The words take away the breath in my lungs and briefly stop my heart from beating. It takes a while, but I force myself back to the harsh reality that, if I fail, if I don't meet the right height, Rahne will have to pay alongside me. I took this job to my advantage and now, selfishness and trivial love has taken over, meaning that someone I love with all my heart will have to pay the price. I shouldn't have allowed her in. I shouldn't have fallen for someone who isn't deserving of this. She's friendly, she's kind, she's my Rahne... she wouldn't hurt a fly, and yet, she's with someone who openly makes it her mission to destroy children's lives.

I gulp harshly and nod. "I have the perfect idea. It'll take some time to build, but I know, I know how to utilize claustrophobia."

"And how will you utilize it?" she asks, her voice now taking a sadistic, sweetened tone.

"...to our advantage. I know how to make the tributes feel as if someone is tightening their grip around their throats. I... I know how to take their breaths away and destroy their minds."

She smiles greedily now, glancing over at her son in the distance, standing in the background like he's better than the other patrons. "That's brilliant. You know, Felidae, you and Rahne should think about adopting a child. I'm sure we could find you one. I'd be more than happy to pull some strings."

Is that just a thing she wants to use against me eventually too? Like her encouragement of my marriage to Rahne?

"Maybe. We've only just got married." I reply quietly, the confidence in me completely drained.

"Very well," she hums. "I look forward to seeing this arena. Invite Rahne along, it's been awhile since we've gathered together."

I nod and watch as she turns around, her eyes glistening with apparent excitement. She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't need too. I think I get her point clear and precise. If Rahne's in the room, she's an easier target. I feel a sense of uneasiness in the pit of my stomach and continue to nod, watching her smile grow wider and wider. My selfishness has caused my love to be put at risk. As Esmeralda walks away, I look back to Rahne who only glances in my direction, smiling softly.

My arena has to be good. It has to crush these tributes until there's nothing left of any of them, Victor and the fallen.

I have to do this for her; for my wife.

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**Expect the reapings in about a week or so, and hopefully, one update a week should go to plan to get through pre-Games a lot quicker!**

**Here, however, are your wonderful tributes for this story and underneath, information and such, like the blog and everything.**

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**List Of Tributes.**

**District One - Luxury.**

Male: Fedora Clos, 18.

Female: Dione Martell, 18.

**District Two - Masonry.**

Male: Magnus Croft, 18.

Female: Laise Revilyn, 18.

**District Three - Technology.**

Male: Brigan Knoll, 15.

Female: Bliss Promenade, 16.

**District Four - Fishing.**

Male: Lux Solaris, 16.

Female: Genevieve Arlen, 17.

**District Five - Power.**

Male: Hamlet Althen, 17.

Female: Nerys West, 18.

**District Six - Transportation.**

Male: Grey Slate, 14.

Female: Nadia Halifax, 16.

**District Seven - Lumber.**

Male: Alder Hawthorne, 15.

Female: Savannah DeBeaux, 15.

**District Eight - Textiles.**

Male: Darek Jacquard, 16.

Female: Helene Fortress, 17.

**District Nine - Grain.**

Male: Maxim Bauer, 13.

Female: Tambryn Delevingne, 17.

**District Ten - Livestock.**

Male: Finch Caraway, 18.

Female: Piper Oxalis, 18.

**District Eleven - Agriculture.**

Male: Adra Church, 15.

Female: Harlow Bellamy, 15.

**District Twelve - Coal.**

Male: Jayden Perona, 16.

Female: Wisteria Arnette, 18.

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******The Ruler And The Killer by Kid Cudi.**

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******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

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**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

**_Who are your favourite tributes from just a simple, first impression look at the blog? As in biased, judged impressions?_**

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

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**Some ages, pictures, etc. might be edited and changed. I think I told each and every person I was editing their tribute(?), if not, I apologise. No major changes. Ages might have gone up or down by one year, whilst some pictures on the blog might have different lookalikes just because I struggled to find a picture that conveyed your tribute enough (or my taste).**

**For now, please check out the blog and look at the competitors. Reapings will be here between five days to a week, depending on how easy some of them are! A review is always appreciated!**

**I would just ask that all submitters review this chapter, just so I know whose been reading, waiting, and who hasn't, sorta thing, and that you've checked the blog out (or haven't, if you've had trouble) and are happy with the way your tribute looks and that! It's more of my own nerves, kinda thing, since it's been a while... *awkward laugh***

**A lot of these tributes are older and, whilst my OCD mind is screaming, I'm going with the excuse that older teens are more likely to be reaped and to volunteer than the younger ones.**

**Also... this is a big one... this story will be my most riskiest yet. A LOT of these tributes have... peculiar, dangerous backgrounds and history that I've never wrote, read or seen. It might be out there; but I've never seen it. This story is going to lack "normal" tributes a lot, I'm afraid... many of these tributes will literally balance on the line of creative and out there, but I'm excited and you should be too!**


	3. The Districts Sleep Alone Tonight

**The Districts Sleep Alone Tonight.**

_The district sleeps alone tonight after the bars turn out their lights._

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**Swift Voiture, District One Male.**  
**One Hundred and Tenth Victor.**

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The reapings have always been my favourite part about the Hunger Games. Forget the Games or even after, the best moment would be here, right now. Your name gets chosen amongst all the others, all the faces staring at you with envy whilst the cameras roll solely on you and your district partner. For anyone who likes attention, this is the best place to get it. A child who often gets ignored can have all the attention they want by volunteering. It's worked in past years and there's nothing to say it won't work now.

For me, being a mentor is even better. I never have to worry about competing for the limelight, the attention, the glory. I'm a household name in this district. Everyone knows me. Attention will always be mine whether I like it or not, and right now and possibly forever, I love it.

"Daydreaming about yourself again, Swift?" Aphrodite, my fellow mentor, smirks from my side. "With all those thoughts about yourself, you'd think your head has gotten big. Yet, it's still the weird egg that is was last year and the year before that and... sorry, there's no end to this."

"Say all you like Aph, you're reminiscing about your reaping too."

"It shouldn't be called a reaping for us," she responds evenly. "It should be more like a judgement call or an honors list."

I admire Aphrodite no matter how many times she seems to be bitter towards me. Compared to all the other female Victors from District One, she's the only one to not fall under Augustus' thumb. He grabs them the moment they're crowned, but Aphrodite was different. She didn't allow him that opportunity because, in her words, she's an independent woman who needs no man. I'm okay; Augustus has never bothered with the male Victors. I can stay away from his whore-house.

"I suppose so. Say, has Augustus started to pick volunteers from Kingston Academy or does he let them decide still?"

"I think he might pick," she responds evenly once more, never daring to look me in the eyes. "You know what he's like when it comes to the female tributes. He'll choose the most talented, albeit vulnerable, girl he can find and make her volunteer."

"Like he did to you?" I ask.

She turns to me then, eyes hardened and daring. "Like he did to me. But he chose wrong; he thought I was vulnerable until he realised that the murderer in there was true and not false."

I nod, suddenly feeling my throat seize. Aphrodite lets her stare linger on me for a moment before she looks back to the crowd, watching it fill up with children of all ages. For some reason, this year, Aphrodite doesn't seem so... so friendly, as she normally is. She only won a few years ago - two before me - and she's been fine ever since. Why this year to play up? I shake my head and turn back to the crowd, forcing a grin on my face. I'll talk to her later.

Our escort, Isadora, trots onto the stage with a huge smile. She glances my way for a second and winks, a wink that tells the details of our sordid affair that's been happening since I volunteered. She's older than me, sure, but that's never stopped me. I'm even legal now and it still happens. Isadora and me, we go well, but only for a fling and nothing more.

"Welcome District One!" she chirps, her red lips peeling into a smile. "I hope you are all ready for this year's Hunger Games! It'll just be so exciting! Without further ado, I shall pick the female first!"

She separates from her microphone for a second and skips across the wooden stage towards us, heading for the bowl. She glances at me again and it's my time to wink in return. Aphrodite doesn't seem to notice; or she plays a blind eye to everything around her. Seriously, what has gotten into her? After a session with Isadora on the train, I'll have to find out, otherwise I'll never be able to sleep properly tonight. I don't care too much for Aphrodite, but she's the one Victor I actually care for the most, even if it's not a lot.

"Our female tribute this year is... Glamm-"

Without a word, I see the head of a blonde clambering onto the stage, face made of stone. She doesn't say anything and Isadora blinks a few times, and really, the whole thing is hilarious considering how many teenagers are down there, scowling that they might've missed their chance. Worse of all, she's Augustus' type, so that means we're to back her then.

"And what is your name?" Isadora asks, handing the microphone stand to her. The girl mumbles and Isadora frowns. "You'll have to speak up."

"Dione Martell." she states clearly, without emotion.

"Very well, and now our boys," Isadora frowns, obviously not content with the girl whose unenthusiastic. That's okay; more anger to release on the train. "And our male is Ony-"

"I volunteer." another rather emotionless voice booms.

Everyone looks at the steps as a short, blonde haired boy steps up neatly. He looks at the crowd, but doesn't smirk or smile. Just a pressed line. I frown, leaning out of my seat more. Seriously? A district noted for their glamour and perky tributes, and we get two depressed looking ones?

"And I hope you'll be a bit more happier. Your name is?" Isadora asks, forcing the microphone stand into his hand.

"Fedora Clos." he grumbles.

Isadora snatches the microphone from his hand, cheeks flushed a busy pink. She's embarrassed and angry, oh most definitely angry. "District One, your tributes!"

Score.

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**Amity Argo, District Two Female.**  
**Eighty-Fourth Victor.**

* * *

"Are the volunteers ready?" I ask Ajax as he nears me, a grim look on his face. He nods and tries to force on a smile, falling into his seat.

This would be his fourth time at mentoring. Straight after his victory, he was pushed into mentoring the next year, bringing home Tarzana. Due to her return, he was asked for the next year by Evander and Signus, in which he won again, bringing home Lennox. Two years after his own victory, and he brought home other tributes. Whatever Clifford had said to him, it worked. He really nailed into the potential tributes. His third year, however, he lost. His tribute didn't return. Her death crushed him so much that he refused to do it again. Years went by, and only due to me has Ajax returned.

"Does that mean that we won't have another incident like Cyra?"

He scowls slightly, but looks more tired. "Definitely not. Hasn't happened since then, has it?"

"I suppose not. Rules have gotten tighter since then," I nod knowingly, remembering how everyone in Cyra's class was punished for her rash attempt at glory. "Evander would never allow it to happen again. Cyra brought shame upon his and Signus' work."

"That she did," he rolls his eyes before pausing, leaning up in his seat more. "Did you notice that Evander seems to call the shots more often now compared to Signus?"

I shrug, gulping thickly. "Submissive, perhaps."

"Time will come when one - or both - will die and someone will have to take over operations of the Training Centre. Who do you think it'd be?"

"Clifford. Definitely him. Knowing Evander, he's probably signed his share off to Clifford already."

"What about Signus' share?" Ajax raises his eyebrow. "Signus would have to choose someone to. I just hope it isn't me."

"Or me." I reply quietly.

That's the one thing that me and Ajax share most commonly; we don't appreciate our victories. The others turned to addiction or other forms to cope, whilst me and Ajax are plagued by the nightmares and choose to keep it that way. I'd rather spend the rest of my life waking up in a sweat than spending it looking down the neck of a bottle. I believe Ajax feels the same.

"Or Brick either. The arrogance would probably make him duplicate with glee. Maverick would be too drunk to even know what to do anymore."

I go to open my mouth, to reply, when the escort, Crisis, taps the microphone loudly, sending a rush of static through the air, causing everyone to wince. He smirks, coughing to prepare his voice. I look out into the crowd to try and spot our volunteers, Magnus and Laise, but both are just swallowed by the sea of leather jackets and smart clothing. I'll be taking on Laise myself - I was a champion with my sword and she preferred that. Magnus will get the pleasure of being under Ajax, but with his reputation, it would be anyone's pleasure.

"I suppose we should find our volun- I mean, tribute," Crisis grins wickedly but knowingly. "Your female tribute is... Ursula A-"

"I volunteer!" Laise, I presume, booms. The crowd parts as the girl runs forward, a smile on her face as strands of blonde hair whip her gently. She glances my way for a second and nods curtly, rushing up the steps.

"And your name is, young lady?" Crisis asks.

"Laise, Laise Revilyn." she smiles kindly, but I know that the smile holds many different things about her. I've learned that Laise is a lot more complex than looks and stereotypes hand her.

"That's a truly beautiful name," Crisis gushes, clapping his hands slightly. "I guess he should find out who your just as beautiful district partner will be!"

He crosses the stage quickly, leaving Laise alone. She crosses her arms across her stomach and holds her head high, despite the fact I know she's not as confident as she lets on. She's a pretty girl; yet like me, the social side of the world has left us conscious. Crisis returns to the microphone and claps once more, the excitement building. "And your district partner, Laise, is none other than-"

"I'm already here," a calm voice comes clear. Everyone looks at the steps and yes, Magnus is already stood at the bottom. He climbs quickly and stands next to Laise, without Crisis' help. Crisis hands him the microphone and Magnus' lips break out into a smile. "Magnus Croft."

"As beautiful as I expected," Crisis gushes once more, looking positively happy. I glance at Ajax and he nods curtly, reading to bring home another. He can't bear to lose another; he'll use everything he's got. I'll have to do the same. "District Two, your fabulous tributes!"

* * *

**Micro Wheeler, District Three Male.**  
**One Hundred and Seventh Victor.**

* * *

"I wonder why you're mentoring this year?" Mercury wonders aloud, before looking at me. "Surely Bolt could have taken your position."

I shrug. "I'm sorry?"

"Don't apologise, it's not your fault," she smiles softly. "I'm just thinking that he could have done it and spared you from it for another year. You haven't long won, Micro."

It's almost like she forgets that I won quite a few years ago. I'm no longer the geeky, glasses-wearing and greasy-haired fourteen year old I was. I managed to win, didn't I? She still treats me like the child I was back then, unable to think straight because I could only picture my death. Bolt was easy on me, Mercury was too, but she expects him to hide me from the grit of it all. She forgets because I'm years younger than her, in my prime at the age of twenty-one. Of course, when you look at me, I still wear glasses and I'm probably just as geeky.

"Maybe he needed a rest," I supply. "Plus, I was asked by Esmeralda Snow to be the mentor this year."

"Well that woman is full of surprises, is she not?" Mercury replies a little bitterly.

Every year, Esmeralda picks the mentors. This year, I was chosen, and Mercury would have preferred Bolt. But, this gives him the chance to spend some time with his budding, adoptive family.

"She is," I answer quietly. "I'm sure Bolt appreciates it though."

"I'm sure he does."

There's a thick tension between us, Mercury's mood having obviously soured. I don't whether it's my fault or whether it's Esmeralda, but either way, she's pissed. Of course, when the escort appears, she straightens up in her seat, adjusts her glasses and tussles her long, wispy blonde hair. She'll cheer up for this - not because another kid might die, but because this is where her mind will start spinning and she'll analyze her tribute to make sure she mentors them right. It's one of her better qualities.

"I think this is just super!" the escort beams. "I mean, in my hand, right now, I have the pleasure of choosing one of you for the honour of representing your district!"

She seems to pause - maybe to wait for a response? - before she coughs awkwardly and flips the slip open.

"Your male tribute this year will be... drum roll please... Brigan Knoll!"

A boy with curly hair and a pale face just stands still. He reminds me of me, except without glasses and a better haircut. He doesn't move, the shock having temporarily paralyzed him. A Peacekeeper slides through the boys and grabs him by the arm, hauling him towards the front. He doesn't move or say anything, wide eyes just staring forward. He's pushed onto the stage and snaps out of the daze he shifted in.

"Oh dear... maybe a better luck with the lady, whom, this note says is... Bliss Promenade!"

A scream beckons throughout the area and a girl with blistering blonde hair bounds to the front. She's grinning wildly, eyes gleeful and happy. She skips the steps and plants a sloppy, cheerful kiss to Brigan's cheek. The escort is loving it, smiling and clapping lightly. She seems over the moon. Bliss turns around, waves to the crowd, before looking over her shoulder straight at me. She winks casually and my heart flutters. I've never received the attention of a girl before...

* * *

**Octavian St. Pierre, District Four Male.**  
**One Hundred and Sixth Victor.**

* * *

"Sister, will you please hurry up!" I groan, banging on the door for what must be the thousandth time. "If you don't move then I'm just going to ask River to take your place!"

"Don't you dare!" a voice comes from the other side. As per usual, Odyessa has no class. "I have worked hard for this moment!"

"What moment? You've mentored before!"

The door swings open, revealing Odyessa, stood there, hand on her hip as her black hair curls down her front. "But not with you, brother. This will be the first time we've mentored together, the St. Pierre siblings, ready to rule District Four."

"Oh please," I glare. "You're not happy about mentoring with me. You just don't want River having anymore limelight."

"And that," she sticks out her tongue, before twirling on the spot. "How do I look?"

"Like a hooker?" I say honestly, but when I see her face, I can't help but both laugh and lie. "You look absolutely stunning. Forget those tributes; this day is about you and no-one else."

She scowls as she slides past me, making sure to knock her shoulder into me. I laugh again and following her down the hallway of the Justice Building. Out of all my siblings, Odyessa is probably my closest in terms of friendship. There's five years between us and another sibling, Oceana, but that hasn't stopped our... unusual bond. When I volunteered at eighteen years old, when Odyessa was only thirteen, she made me swear to return. I did, and began to train her. She loved what my life had become and wanted it for herself; she became obsessed with the fame and fortune. If anything, it's my fault that she has become the way she has. When she volunteered five years after me - the One Hundred and Eleventh Hunger Games - I knew she'd return. I had trained her after all.

The main thing that blossomed from our victories was our newfound rivalry. Before, it was minute, but after she won by slicing the throat of the District Five female, she claimed she was better. I had won in a similar fashion, the sword to the heart for the District Five male. From there, it grew, twisted and lithe until it is what it is now.

Odyessa pushes open the doors and sunlight beams in. I hear a small cheer and, once the light has gone, I see that River has still decided to turn up to watch us. As Odyessa walks towards River on the other side of the stage, I notice that the pens are almost full to the brim of children. Two volunteers are out there; another year to try once more. Smiling, I walk over to my sister.

"Always was the attention-seeker," I hear Odyessa hiss when I near, River's face almost stoned with a laughable expression. "Never could let go that you're not the only female Victor from District Four anymore."

"I think your small brain is forgetting Annie," River smiles it away, a smile that is confident and cocky. "Don't worry; I know that mathematics and knowledge was never your thing. Hey Octavian, might want to put the muzzle back on your sister."

Odyessa growls but my arms are already looping around her waist, hauling her away from River. She hisses and digs her nails into my arms, but there's no point. I can't exactly allow Odyessa to try and murder River on reaping day, no matter how much she wants to. I force her into her seat and she huffs, dragging her hand through her hair. She doesn't bother to look at me now either; she was always petty.

"Behave and watch the volunteers come up," I whisper, keeping my eyes locked on the crowd and more importantly, River. "I tell you what, you can pick whichever one you want to mentor."

She only huffs in response, but there's no point, the escort is already on the stage. She's definitely a new person and I strain my eyes to try and look at her face more clearly. I smirk. She's new; this will be an interesting year. She takes the first slip and goes back to her microphone, prepared. "District Four, I need to make this quick, my hair and this salty breeze do not go well! Your female representative is none other than Felici-"

"I volunteer!" a voice comes through the crowd, cutting the escort off. She seems to frown, but her eyes lighten as the girl hits the stage. Her brown hair and pale complexion make me believe that she doesn't get much sun. She nears the escort and smiles, taking the microphone politely. "What's your n-"

"My name is Genevieve Arlen."

The escort rudely snatches the microphone back from Genevieve and stomps over to the male bowl.

"There you go Odyessa, do you want her?" I nudge, but Odyessa looks up and shakes her head. "Okay then, you have the boy."

"District Four, your male representative is none other than Lux Solaris!"

There's a loud cheer as the boys begin to separate the obviously shorter, thinner boy. He's not a Career, no way. He looks slightly terrified and begins walking. No volunteer? I sit closer to my seat, staring at the crowd with interest. Nobody has offered to take his place and, when he passes a bulky boy, a shoulder shunts him forward and he stumbles. They're mocking him. I nod curtly and Odyessa stares at me.

"Switch." she says bluntly.

I smirk. "Now that isn't fair, is it?"

* * *

**Elesa Azel, District Five Female.**  
**One Hundred and Fourteenth Victor.**

* * *

Zeke passes me and doesn't say a thing. His head is hung and he doesn't look too happy. Not mad, but rather... sad. I glance in his direction as he passes out the doors of the Justice Building and onto the stage. When it shuts, I sigh. He still blames himself. I've told him time and time before that he wasn't to blame for what happened to me, but he insists that it was. His parachute and note came too late.

My arena last year was a large building, like a house. It had many corridors and rooms and ratty furniture. It seemed normal enough with a normal amount dying in the bloodbath. But the calmness was suspicious. It was only after my ally, the District Nine male, threw up and it was tainted with blood that I realised that the air or food must have been tainted. Slowly, he grew weak, skin turning white as he shivered and eventually died. I promised myself that I wouldn't cry and I didn't. I didn't have the time.

After his death, it was confirmed. Our time was limited. He came in eighteenth place, and that's when hell broke loose.

Tributes were running around, screaming, each one trying to attack and kill to avoid the pain. The longer we were exposed to the poison in the air, the more damaging effect. Our skin colour would change, becoming white like an Albino. Our lungs would slowly shut down, making breathing and talking hard. Our liver and kidney would begin to fail, before it captured our hearts. My ally was the "example", to show that it was about to happen.

I freaked. I began to run and started to hunt. I found the Careers and killed at least two of them. I didn't have the time to sit around. Being around my ally meant that I was exposed even more, his sick often spraying out onto my lap and skin. I'd be dead before anyone else.

Zeke tried to warn me; tried to tell me that the female from District Four was indeed around the corner, us two being the finale that the Capitol wanted. She managed to cut across my throat, exposing the poison straight to lungs, effectively leaving them permanently damaged, unrepairable.

I sigh again and walk towards the doors. I'm left scarred. White skin, white hair, unable to speak. I'm not mute, but my voice is rough and jagged, a mixture of croaks and whimpers. I push the doors open and allow the light to bathe me. Zeke has taken his seat, unable to look my way. He feels responsible for not only what happened to me, but also Cordelia. He's now her carer, and she isn't easy to handle with her suicide attempts.

I don't bother to speak to him as I take my seat next to him. I can even see the way he flinches.

"District Five," the escort speaks, his voice low and rough. "I know you want to know your tributes. Male first."

He shows absolutely no emotions as he pulls the slip open, staring at the name hard. He seems to mumble whatever he sees, unable to maybe pronounce the name? Finally, he steps up to the microphone again and coughs. Zeke looks up for a brief second and narrows his eyes. There's some commotion coming from the girl's section right at the back. I try to follow his eyesight, but unable to pick anything up.

"Hamlet Althen. Your male tribute is Hamlet Althen."

The crowd doesn't split or anything. It's almost peculiar; I can remember last year how my district partner was basically shoved to the front before he could register anything else. A tall boy with brown hair doesn't even look shocked. He seems... accepting? He nods to himself and then walks very calmly towards the stage. By the time he gets there, the escort has already analyzed the female's name.

"And your female tribute is Violetta Grange."

The girl is quickly found, wide-eyed and tearful. And that's when a girl jumps screams at the top of her lungs. All eyes dart to the commotion at the back, two Peacekeepers physically holding a girl that squirms in their grasp. She seems shocked that she spoke, but her words are chosen. They seem to escort her down the aisle, handcuffs clear.

"And we have a volunteer," the escort drones emotionless again. "And your name is, dear?"

"Nerys West." she breathes, sorting out her posture as one of them takes off her handcuffs. "I'm Nerys West."

I know her from somewhere, I just can't put my finger on it. I look to Zeke for confirmation, but of course, he can't bare to stare at me and what he thought he done to me. He'll have to live with it; I do.

* * *

**Constance Aires, District Six Female.**  
**One Hundred and Ninth Victor.**

* * *

I tap my foot lightly against the chair leg, looking out at the sea of tributes. I swallow thickly and look around, imagining what kid I could possible get this year. Last year, I had this awful girl who constantly screeched and cried when she didn't get her way. Can't say I was too sad when she was killed in that poison house. Sure, she died, it's sad, but life is life and the Hunger Games aren't exactly going anywhere. Maybe I'm a bitch for thinking that she might have deserved it, but if she wasn't going to try, then why allow someone else to die for her to win?

Lorcan has different methods and I respect that. He probably felt guilt when his tribute died last year. I felt guilt too, but I see the glass as being half-full... that girl from District Five deserved the win.

"District Six!" the escort, Paloma, yodels into the microphone. Like every other year, she wants to sing blissfully for us all. As if that'll please the chosen children. "I have your female tribute within my hand!"

Where's Lorcan? I don't understand him. Despite helping me win, without Wisp, the boy is uncontrollable. I should say man, but frankly, he's a man-child.

"And your female tribute this year my beloved district is known as Nadia Halifax! Do I have a sweet Nadia Halifax?" she yodels once more, the voice making a premature headache come about.

I look out at the section that the isolated girl belongs to. Sixteen. That's a decent age. I guess that could work. Her arms are a little frail, but put to good use, she could probably throw a spear and hit the target decently. She's reasonably pretty too, so as long as I pull the strings right, I might be able to get her some sponsors. She looks a little lost, like her eyes are staring into space and she stands there. She glances straight ahead, and it's like she's looking at me.

Then she screams.

It's screeched and bellowing, only reminding me of the girl from last year. Great. I'm taking the boy then. She tries to run, but the Peacekeepers are on her within seconds, lifting her up from the ground and dragging her to the front, kicking and screaming. She's thrown onto the stage, but that doesn't stop her. She scrambles to her feet and tries to run once more. I frown and nod; okay, maybe she might be decent, if she learns not to screech like a siren. But her body suddenly falls to the floor, wires hitting her back and connecting to a taser owned by one of the Peacekeepers. Yet, nobody is shocked. Probably a drug addict like most of this district.

"Well that was certainly exciting! Really has my blood pumping!" the escort claps, oblivious to the actual scene that a girl was tasered after freaking out. "I hope your male tribute is just as exciting!"

She skips across the stage, daintily passing Nadia. She grabs the slip and opens it slow, building the drama.

"And your male tribute is the beautifully named Grey Slate! Grey Slate, please feel free to dazzle us!"

A little boy is suddenly ushered out of the reaping, and a strangled cry comes from outside. A young tribute with a desperate parent. My heart feels for the kid, but I can't help him unless he can help himself at the very least. He looks terrified, but more so confused. He seems to mutter to himself and look around, as if some invisible force is next to him. Maybe he's looking for an answer?

He carefully walks the steps to the stage and Paloma giggles, handing him the microphone. "Anything to say, cutie, on behalf of you and the lovely Nadia?"

It shakes in his hands a little but he tries to crack a comforting smile. "I promise to protect her."

Neither are that great, but he's obviously the better of the two. Oh well, Lorcan isn't here, he doesn't get to choose, I do since I bothered to turn up.

* * *

**Willow Cleese, District Seven Female.**  
**Eighty-Ninth Victor.**

* * *

The escort is swirling her hand around the bowl, a long, black fingernail stabbing one slip in particular. There goes our boy.

I spy from afar as Maple gently kisses Spruce on the cheek. Their love had only blossomed a year ago, the result of many Capitol visits together for both the Hunger Games and other engagements, and I'm happy for the pair of them, despite me and Maple being nothing similar. It's hard to find love when everyone knows what you're capable of. Once they've seen you kill someone, it puts a damper onto a potential relationship. Maple and Spruce are lucky - four years apart, similar crimes committed.

"Spruce, stage now please." I call, watching Maple turn and glare in my direction.

She's nothing feminine or petite - Maple is rather muscular but lean at the same time, a boy-girl Spruce often teased her before their relationship came together, obviously - but Spruce obviously doesn't care about looks. Maple quickly kisses Spruce again, before he pulls away.

"We need to get you a man." Spruce grins, taking his seat next to me.

"And why would you think that?"

"Instincts," Spruce says, before turning and smirking. "Primal instincts."

"You and Maple suit each other." I roll my eyes.

He opens his mouth, but I quickly put my hand up, silencing him. If I have to mentor with Spruce, I'd rather not hear about his vulgar attitude or constant talk about Maple. We're here to mentor two children who are being plucked from their homes and life, not to gush over a new girlfriend. Worse of all, we might have a volunteer; they're even worse to handle than a sobbing child. With a sobbing child, you can easily just comfort them and encourage them. A volunteer from District Seven - a district that many were for being classed as Careers, sprouting a new collection of trained children - usually is both cocky and arrogant. Spruce is one of those. He volunteered - trained for about a year before - and wormed his way into the Careers. He pretty much started the trend, all thanks to our mayor.

I remember having to mentor Spruce and his district partner at the time, Tulip. I knew her because she was a girl from the school that I attended, except four years younger than me. He was unbearable and I was on my own, the only Victor of District Seven alive, pressured to save another life. Poor Tulip got overshadowed by Spruce's confidence.

He forgot that. He forgot that he wasn't the only one. He still forgets he isn't the only one.

The escort quickly passes us on her way to the microphone, a slip already in her hand. She doesn't say anything, but I know her attitude - this one is both annoying and confident, a mixture of a snob and a prat. She can't bare district scum like us despite that, in all honesty, we're more prized than an escort. Our Games, our victories, they can't be replaced no matter how much we want them to be... an escort is simply replaceable.

"I'll do this quick," she starts off, voice cold and dripping with aggravation. "Your male tribute is Alder Hawthorne. Make your way to the stage, Alder."

The crowd part until a lone boy is out in the open. He seems shocked and doesn't even look that old. He blinks a few times before he smiles softly, accepting it. He runs towards the stage, an act that is trying to hide whatever he must be feeling, whether it's sorrow or hopelessness. I glance at Spruce as he mounts the steps. "Your tribute of mine?" he asks.

"I'll take him since you don't sound so enthusiastic." I reply bluntly.

He shrugs his shoulders as the escort takes the female's name out of the bowl. She glances at it for a brief second before scrunching the paper up in her hand.

"And your female tribute is Savannah DeBeaux. Savannah, make your way to the stage. District Seven, here are your tributes." she quickly says, finishing it all up before Savannah is even seen.

I manage to spot the girl, though, whose eyes are wide, hands wrapped around her stomach. Tears quickly stream her face and she hiccups from the emotions, walking forward very slowly. She climbs the stage and stands next to the escort awkwardly, though neither look at each other. She rocks on the balls of her feet, hands still latched around her stomach for comfort, perhaps.

"Damn it," Spruce mutters. "She's not making it past the bloodbath then. Swap back with me?"

I shake my head. Sadly, for once, I might have to agree with him.

* * *

**Velvet Nixon, District Eight Female.**  
**Ninety-Fourth Victor.**

* * *

"District Eight, are you as excited as I am?" the escort grins, an attempt to soften the crowd. She's only met with silence, though. "Wow, okay then. I guess I should say a joke? Okay okay, you've twisted my arm. What did the sea say to the sand?"

Everyone is still quiet, and her perky head cranes to see if anyone wants to answer. I look to Chiffon, sitting at my side, but she's calm and sedated, the woman having been through his many upon many times. Chiffon Poiter was our first ever Victor after the Victor's Purge. She done well to keep up an image of total maturity and poise, despite some problems. I remember this one year where my tribute - this boy called Anubis Cotton - was so arrogant and Chiffon snapped at him. Word never got out, but the outburst broke Chiffon. She believes that negative emotions only remind her of the Games she went in.

"He said," she pauses, building the dramatic tension. "Sea you later! Get it? Because he's the sea and he's saying 'sea' you later, rather than 'see' you later!"

Everyone stays quiet, but the escort laughs, the rainbow-coloured locks on her head bobbing up and down with each chuckle. She manages to compose herself enough to walk over to the bowl, using her other hand to wipe away tears leaking from her eyes. She clips onto the first slip.

"Do you want another joke before the announcement? No? Okay, we'll cut up the drama with some lightness. But, first, your female tribute is... Helene Fortress!"

I know that name. Her family, their luck has never been good... my heart goes out to her. The crowd splits apart and the bright-eyed, blonde haired girl is left vulnerable. She goes an incredible shade of white - whiter than I believed possible - before it turns even worse. She goes green, eyes wide and fearful as a hand goes up to clamp on her mouth, only barely stopping the green sick that squirts between her fingers. The girls around her seemed disgusted, screeching and chuckling, all whilst Helene tries to compose herself. The white - almost turned green - on her face suddenly goes bright red as she walks forward.

I twiddle my thumbs awkwardly, pressing them down into my dress. Chiffon doesn't know. I developed OCD last year, only mild, but things like sickness... it stirs my whole body up. I press down onto my dress more, digging my nails into my palm as the girl climbs the steps.

"Poor girl." Chiffon comments quietly, face still prim and proper.

"And now another joke!" the escort babbles, but all eyes are on the ashamed Helene. "No? Oh, okay, I need to speed things along. Your male tribute is... Darek Jacquard! What a lovely name!"

The boy doesn't need to be isolated - he's lucky enough to be on the outside of the enclosure. He looks around, his body looking like it's vibrating. He seems to be looking for someone, but I have no idea who and it isn't obvious. Maybe it's just for some comfort. Instead, though, he starts to walk, still looking, still vibrating. Another one to feel sorry for. Luckily, compared to Helene, there's no real reason to mock Darek because he's just as normal as the others; unlucky as well.

"He'll probably do well."

"She might be an underdog." I counter.

"You're right. I shouldn't judge really, not after everything."

I don't miss the way she slips her hand into mine. It's a quick sense of panic for a complete sense of help. I look back at Darek and Helene, two kids fated to go through what we had to. I can't help but feel sorry for them. The Hunger Games breaks the most strongest, the most tough-minded, the most vulnerable and the most weak. They break all kinds of people, whether dead or Victor, both practically death sentences to their own accords.

* * *

**Bailey Dune, District Nine Female.**  
**Eighty-First Victor.**

* * *

I step out from the Justice Building and take my seat on the stage, looking out at the empty enclosures for the children to fill.

It's almost surreal knowing that I'm here once more, ready to fight for another child. For many years now, since Remy, District Nine hasn't had a Victor. We have three out of the many the other districts have supplied. I'm not complaining; it's not about the victory that makes my heart ache, oh no, it's the fact that year after year we watch the children die. We try our hardest - some even believe Buck would help them because he was a legend - but the truth is, we're as hopeless as them.

This'll be just another year for me. Buck and Remy switch every now and then, sometimes taking a few years at a time before passing it over, whereas I'm always here. As the only female Victor of District Nine, I have to be here, just in case a tribute prefers having a female leader. I hardly doubt so; District Nine can be narrow-minded. I've had tributes who've demanded they get the same-sexed mentor.

Remy finally slides into his seat next to me, whiskey clear on his breath. "Have you been drinking again?" I whisper.

"Only the one," he replies rather clearly. "I needed to calm my nerves."

"Why?" I question, though I sound more like I'm pestering him.

"My niece, it's her first reaping," he croaks. "Terrified it could be her, Bailey."

"If she does get picked, Remy, wouldn't it be better to have an uncle who can help her and not be blind drunk or tipsy?"

He shrugs his shoulders and slouches into his seat more, strands of wispy blonde hair falling over his eyes. If he's going to act like this, then I might have to look after both tributes. Maybe Buck could switch last minute? Whilst his niece has the chances, Remy isn't going to be much help. Then again, once the girl is announced and it isn't her, he'll pull it together? One can only hope. I'm not that young anymore. I have my own children to worry about. One is safe, the other is still in there. I should be worried but at the same time, I know that my duty as a mentor is to focus and see things clearly in a time when the tribute cannot.

The escort patters onto the stage and goes straight for the male's bowl, taking a slip as she goes back to the microphone.

"Good morning District Nine, and what a lovely day it is!" she beams, looking positively happy. The children and parents don't respond with the same enthusiasm, though one person decides to slow-clap from the distance. The escort coughs and flips the seal of the slip over. "And your male for this year's Games is... Maxim Bauer!"

There's a shriek from somewhere in the crowd, and the sea of children begin to part. A small, tanned boy stands in the middle, alone, looking at his friends as if he's almost yearning for their support. But no. He's been reaped; he can't have friends anymore but there's no real definite chance he'll return home. When he staggers out of his pen, I realise he's only thirteen... only thirteen years old. I gulp heavily as he staggers to the stage, the sweat on his forehead clear whilst his eyes are literally rolling around. It's almost as if he's about to pass out. When he's in distance, a Peacekeeper hauls him onto the stage.

"Welcome Maxim!" she beams again, plucking at his cheek. "Aren't you just the cutest thing I could eat you all up and have you for my dessert."

She tries to make it cute, but it seems more creepy, and Maxim just stands there, petrified. He cranes his head back to me and Remy. I crack a comforting smile, hoping to bring some light into a dark time of his, surely. Instead though, his eyes widen as everything seems to hit him at once, and he wobbles from the emotional rollercoaster he must be going through.

The escort finally latches off of him and patters over to the female bowl. I hear Remy groan, and when I look, his hand is covering his eyes. This is it. This is the moment he's been dreading for a while now.

"It won't be her." I supply, staring hard at the slip that forms in the escort's hand as she returns to her microphone. "It won't be her, Remy."

"Tambryn Delevingne! Your female tribute is Tambryn Delevingne!"

There's a slight gasp from the crowd. From the corner of my eye, I watch Remy get up, looking visibly relieved. The crowd splits once more and a girl with piercing cat-like eyes is left there, open. Her cheeks flush red for a brief moment before she nods, as if she's accepting the damage. She begins to walk forward, still nodding to herself. At one moment, she even whispers something to herself and herself alone. I feel slightly better about myself, too. She doesn't look so dependent. If she's accepted it, that's the hardest step already accomplished. She climbs the steps and stands next to Maxim.

It's what she does next that amazes me; she laces her fingers through Maxim's and, with a swift, she launches hers and Maxim's joined hand into the air.

The crowd slowly claps, rising and rising.

I just know, I know we have two good tributes this year. They can do it, and I have all my faith in them.

* * *

**Macaulay Hatch, District Ten Male.**  
**One Hundred and Twelfth Victor.**

* * *

I'm still unable to get over what happened.

Each day, I can only relive what went down. The same day. For two years, I relived that moment each time I took my seat on the stage. I was the one who survived amongst all the others. But not all of them were strangers - one was my cousin. It wasn't by sheer luck that we were both reaped, because we weren't. She volunteered. The girls went before the boys that year, and it was obvious what she had in mind. She wanted to win to escape poverty. She took to that stage well, and I knew she could do it, she could win.

Then my name was called. I imagined the moment many times in my head but for once, it was about to happen.

She looked at me with a pained look. No-one could have guessed it. No-one could have planned. We don't, no, we didn't share a last name or even looks. None of the Capitol knew.

But I watched her die. I watched her eyes go dark as I... as I killed her.

Everyone wanted to go home. Before that point, I supported Lila. I wanted her to win and return. After my name was called, I wanted it to be me, and that meant Lila dying. It was a price I had to pay, and I had to kill her for it. Her and me, one of the few. She was close to dying with an injured, infected leg. She pleaded with me to do it; and I did. I didn't even stutter or pretend like I wanted her to live, I just... I just stabbed her straight through the heart. My family can't bare to look at me anymore. All they see is the monster that willingly, without a conscious thought or decision, took his own cousin's life. They pretend they don't care, that they've gotten over it. My mum was thrilled, even hugged me and cried when I returned, but I could never forget the shadow of fear behind them. Was her son truly a murderer? Of course he was. He still probably is.

"Your female tribute this year," I hear, snapping me out of my thoughts. Sunny is rigid besides me, so I focus in on the escort, his blue hair blazing. "Your female tribute this year is Miss. Piper Oxalis!"

The girl is well-known for working behind the tavern as a barmaid. Most people over eighteen know her from there. I turn to notice Sunny looking up, more fiery and fierce than before. She'd know Piper too; she's an avid drinker and uses the excuse that, by going to a bar and not drinking in her home, she doesn't feel so alone and empty. Ever since her brother was transferred away, she's been awfully enclosed and disconnected, a shadow of her former self.

Piper stands alone in the walkway, walking towards us. Both her hands are wrapped around her body, silent tears marring her face.

She's a pretty girl, I believe. Most nights when I would go to the tavern to keep Sunny company - as well as to drown the thoughts of Lila - I would stare at Piper with admiration.

She mounts the steps and glances at both me and Sunny. Yes. She'll be leaning towards us to help her over the male.

"And your male tribute this year is Mr. Finch Caraway!"

This isn't a name I know. I glance around as a boy steps from the crowd, chiseled face locked. He doesn't look angry per se, but rather determined. Then, he stops. I lean forward a little and so does Sunny. He turns around, face turning red and flustered. The determined look is replaced with that of anger and he lashes out, screaming as a Peacekeeper, having locked on early, jumps him quickly, pushing him to the front. He stumbles up the steps until he's hit the stage, and that's when the look is clear; not anger nor determination, but rather hurt.

Sunny doesn't say anything. Neither do I. The district quietly claps for two tributes who may never return.

And if one is lucky enough, I guarantee they'd wish they died instead.

* * *

**Kane Swallow, District Eleven Male.**  
**One Hundred and Thirteenth Victor.**

* * *

"No Ida?" I smile when Mako takes his seat.

"Of course not. Don't be smart, Kane, you knew she wasn't doing it this year."

"I thought she was coming to the Capitol though? For that ball that Snow was hosting after the opening ceremony?"

Mako sighs and places two things onto his temple, rubbing them. "I have no idea. I don't exactly ask her constantly what she's doing."

"I was just taking an interesting in other peoples' lives..." I mutter annoyingly, looking away.

I admit, I'm annoying, but I have every right to be. I'm thankful I survived. So many Victors walk away completely broken and messed-up, like toys without limbs that can't be sewn back on. You'd think they'd appreciate the fact that, oh, you know, they won whilst twenty-three others died and I'm sure they'd happily switch with them. I try to be happy and positive.

I try to live my life to the full because it was almost cut short.

I was in the dreaded arena that people had dubbed "The Fiery Ice" one due to the complexity of snow and heat. It became famous, I must admit, and it was pretty awesome. I can say that now, obviously, but in the arena I was secretly cursing the Head Gamemaker for doing it and wishing her head on a silver platter. Now I can appreciate the creativity behind it. Of course killing children is bad, you know, very bad, but what can I do? One rebellion failed and all Victors were killed. Ida was almost killed, too. Another one is pointless.

"Hey, Mako, don't think our escort is secretly a man, do-"

"Kane be quiet."

"But Mako-"

"Hello District Eleven," our rather manly escort grunts. She's a she, but, like, it could be a he. "Your male tribute is... Adra Church. Can you please come to the stage, sweetheart?"

The way it says sweetheart is rather amusing. It's more like a grumble than anything. Of course, the boy in question is instantly isolated, looking around hopelessly. He walks forward without looking too terrified. He mounts the steps, still emotionless, jaw moving to accompany the heavy breaths he's taken. Inner turmoil. I can relate, my friend.

"Your female tribute is... Harlow Bellamy."

The Peacekeeper's sister? That's new. He kind of deserves it, but the poor girl; she's quickly left alone in the middle of the a circle near the walkway. She doesn't blink or cry, something you'd expect of her age. She quietly begins to motion forward, head held high and eyes sedated. She climbs the steps without problems and stands next to Adra. She's easily recognisable; Harlow is one of the few Caucasian people within District Eleven that isn't a Scarecrow, a price for being a Peacekeeper's sister, living and studying here. I look at them both before turning to Mako, whose eyes are widened.

"I'm sure Ida would have loved to have seen this," I say smugly, looking back and forth between the odd pair. "She would have instantly backed the boy."

There's no need to strengthen the words. Ida is from old times, and because of that, she's slightly racist and prejudiced against those with pale skin. I don't think it's right, Ida's views that is, but it sure is a fun way to wind Mako up easily.

* * *

**Crispin Ricknor, District Twelve Male.**  
**One Hundred and Fourth Victor.**

* * *

The escort walks onto the stage slowly, her head high but shoulders slumped. She was probably hoping for a promotion and was stuck with the lowest district once more. I don't blame her; our surroundings only enhance the poverty that doesn't look desirable. I've had the privilege of attending the Capitol, seeing video footage of the other districts, and it isn't hard to see why we're the bottom of the pile.

But I have pride in my district, much like Peeta. He says this is the district he was born for and the district that he'll die in.

It's no secret he visits her grave constantly. Love sickness, I remember someone telling me. A lot of District Twelve had high hopes for her, compared to Peeta, but it was him that walked away and not her. She was dubbed the "Girl on Fire", even though Peeta was with her the entire time. They backed one side quickly and left the other hung out to dry, much like me. No-one had faith in me, myself included. My district partner was older, stronger, wiser. She was a shoe-in for final three, and yet, I made it and she didn't. I killed one. One child and that's it. I won by pure luck, but sometimes, that's all you need.

Me and Peeta are similar, and it took me a while to wrap my brain around it. He understood me more than her.

When I won, I finally realised that he saw in me what he saw in himself. A boy who, against all odds and faith, won. A boy who showed a whole district that anyone is capable of surviving, not just the strongest or the smartest or the fastest. Luck can take you a long way. It's a gamble; but it could pay off.

For many years, I was trapped in my own mind after winning, trying to contemplate how I managed to win. After years of flinching at the slightest of noises, movements, scared to sleep at night, I finally realised that luck was on my side.

"Good morning District Twelve!" the escort beams, a quick change in attitude. "I believe another year of the Hunger Games is coming around! Shall I pick your male?"

I try to acknowledge Peeta's face - for any sign of emotion - but he's good at putting up a mask. Every year I've worked alongside him, I've known that he's always been professional, trying hard to ensure that the tribute he's mentoring knows anything and everything. He doesn't let his personal hatred or sadness get in the way of someone else trying to do what he did; that's the best thing about him. The escort folds open the slip slowly, smiling to herself.

"Your male tribute this year is a Jayden Perona! Jayden, my dear, where are you?"

A few boys step aside, leaving one in the middle. He looks around, confused, but his face turns a sickly white. Realisation hits him. He gulps - quite obviously - before walking forward. Then he does something I didn't expect. He smiles, softly, putting his hand up and waving. I don't know why, but I'm glad he's trying. The best thing to do is to not let them win. Jayden quickly mounts the stage as the escort finds the female's slip. I look at Peeta again, but nothing. Huh. He kind of looks like Peeta, but with darker hair.

"Your female tribute this year is... Chryssa Jenkins!"

There's a shriek from somewhere in the crowd before a small, fragile looking girl is pushed down onto the ground by a Peacekeeper. She seems to scream again, thrashing about and kicking and scr-

"I volunteer!" another voice booms.

Peeta's up instantly, and I look, I look because I know that this must bring back some types of memories. His eyes are wide and, like him, I scan the crowd for the fated volunteer. Will she be just like Katniss? A tall, lean girl comes forward, conviction clear across her face. She doesn't know what she's doing as she quickly mounts the steps. The escort hands her the microphone, but I can't keep my eyes off of Peeta whatsoever.

"Your name?"

"Wisteria Arnette."

"No relation?"

"None whatsoever," she mumbles. "I'm doing this for myself only."

But Peeta won't stop staring, shocked. He's going to want her. Not because he'll use her to replace Katniss - at least I doubt it - but because she's going in to fight for something, not just fighting for their life, she is fighting for that and more. She obviously has more to lose, or maybe nothing at all. No-one will know her reason. Peeta finally sits back in his seat, eyes glossed over.

I guess, in a sense, everyone is just tangled together, lines bringing them together and apart.

But one thing is certain, one thing will destroy us all; and that's ourselves. If anyone is delusional enough to believe the Hunger Games won't affect them, well, they're in for a rude awakening.

* * *

******The Districts Sleep Alone Tonight by The Postal Service.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Which mentors/districts stood out to you, if any?**_

_**Which tributes stood out to you?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Firstly, apologies for almost 10,000 words right here. These characters... I couldn't help myself. I loved doing this waaaaay more than I should of. I hate reapings for Christ's sake and this was too much fun. Something tells me that this story is going to be long and wonderful.**

**Also, like, I'm proud of this writing. This writing right here is probably the hardest I've worked on anything. So much varied vocabulary ;D**

**Mentors' POV because I suck. No other creative outlets. Um. I know the tributes weren't really focused here, but I hate reapings and everyone has the same thoughts and reactions (cry, stunned, etc.) and blah blah blah, I wanted to make them more interesting. They'll come about, don't you worry! I gave you enough to know roughly what to expect, though some might act a litttttle different that expected!**

**Nothing else to say except... expect one hell of a ride with this story. ;)**


	4. One Foot

**One Foot.**

_I don't need a new love, or a new life, just a better place to die._

* * *

**Brigan Knoll, District Three Male.**

* * *

I'm led down a hallway hastily, one hand on either of my shoulder. I try to look back at the person pushing me - someone with bright coloured hair, as far as I know - but it's no use. A door is quickly opened and I'm shunted inside, stumbling over my own feet.

"Ah, so you must be Brigan. I'm your stylist, Sephora." a voice comes from behind the curtain.

I crane my head and try to see, but there's no point as the curtain whips to the side, revealing the surprisingly average lady. I stare at her for a moment, my mind coming up with many different ideas. She curls her hair. Maybe I could create something for that? I mean, it could help her. All I'd have to do is bring about a machine that grows hot, which you could wrap the hair around, and then pull down. I'm sure it'd be efficient.

"So tell me Brigan, how are you enjoying the Capitol?" she asks kindly, patting the seat for me to lay down on. I move over and slide onto the seat, laying back until I'm facing the ceiling, bright lights beaming down on me. "Is it everything you expected?"

I nod slowly. "It's amazing. So complex and designed brilliantly."

She chuckles slowly as I hear a noise, water suddenly rushing over my curls. She hums slowly as she runs a hand through my dampened locks. I look down, a brisk breeze brushing over my bare chest. From this angle, all of my burns and scars look more darker and defined. I don't want them to take them away. I've learned about the Capitol and their gadgets - I obsessed over them for quite a while - and I know they have the technology to erase all of my burns and scars. I hope they don't; these blemishes remind me of all the inventions I tried and failed.

"What are all those burns, Brigan?"

I smile with pride. "I like to create things. Sometimes, well, most of the time, they don't work. They explode or break, or sometimes I just injure myself, and these are the results."

"You like to make things?" she asks, a softness in her voice that must be for me and my inventions. Nobody has ever taken the time to ask about them.

"I love to make things!" I beam. "It's something I've always loved. Gadgets, gizmos, everyday help... I just, I can't bear to be without it."

"I'm glad you love what you do," Sephora replies. "I love doing this, to. Would you like those burns and scars taken away or kept?"

I pause for a moment, my heart dropping in my chest. "Is there any way we could just cover them up, but keep them there?"

"Of course sweetheart."

I smile softly and allow her to continue washing my hair, no doubt ridding the smell of petrol that has taken up permanent residence within my roots. Even though I'm going into the arena, I won't forget my origins, and that's why I need my scars and burns. It'll help me keep rooted with my past and remind me why I must do the things I'm about to do. Mercury said I'll have to kill; I don't doubt that. Sephora makes a comment about me looking younger than I probably am and I nod along, more trapped within my mind. Everything seems to be building up and up, never stopping.

But I know one thing is for certain, and that's finding allies. Completely off-topic, but it's there, at the back of my mind. I wouldn't be able to do it on my own.

I just have to learn to adapt, the opposite of what that invention I created that time that exploded outsides.

* * *

**Nerys West, District Five Female.**

* * *

Slipping into the suit makes me feel strange; like a foreigner in my own body. I look towards my stylist, Regis, who smiles slightly... charming.

"You look divine, Nerys," he compliments me, making me blush lightly. Giving me this attention is never good. "When we're ready, I'm going to press this button and all of these lights will just light up. You and Hamlet will look identical and perfect. Test run?"

I nod, staring down at the lights. As he walks away, to collect the remote maybe, I tweak one of the little lightbulbs. It crackles a little, a shard fusing it. When Regis presses the button, I smile, realising that it was broken indeed. My black suit is now without one white light. I tried to fix it, but alas, Regis' perfection wasn't so perfect after all.

"Regis?" I say, turning around to him. "You might want to work on your electronics more. This light doesn't work."

"It was... I-It was working a second ago," he flusters, rushing forward and running his hands up and down my suit in order to possibly find a loose wire. I melt into the touch lightly, the pressure and control nipping at the back of my mind. I could just go for it, I suppose. What's the worse that could happen? I'm already here by choice, it's not like they're going to throw me out now. My hand twitches upwards as Regis backs up, and I quickly hide my intentions. "Huh. It must have been a loose bulb for certain. I wouldn't have missed something so vital like that."

"You kinda did though." I frown sarcastically, watching his cheeks tint pink.

When he turns around again, my smile slips. I try hard to control myself, and just when I think I'm doing okay, it goes wrong. I try to rehabilitate myself, so to speak, but there's always an argument as to why I shouldn't give up, whilst there's always a counter argument for that too. Sometimes, I feel weak, and sometimes empowered.

"Maybe we just need a new lightbulb."

"Maybe I just need a new stylist." I retort, watching Regis' shoulders just slump from the remark.

He turns around, the pink gone and his whiter than white face now back to it's hideous shade of... white. "I think maybe this one will do. Give me a second, I just need to put this one and connect the wires."

He moves in again and I take a sharp breath.

The best thing about this, is that Regis has never once asked about my rash volunteering or anything. I admit, I wasn't exactly planning it or am prepared, but it seemed appropriate, in a sense. I was just being arrested and no doubt executed after the reapings had finished - at least this way, I not only get to live longer, but who would execute a Victor no matter their crimes? It's a win-win situation, really, since I don't particularly look forward to being killed in a public square. I focus my mind on other matters as he tweaks the lightbulb just below my breast.

It'd be so easy and no-one would question it. I hardly doubt that Regis is some high-end stylist; probably new.

"I think it works now Nerys," he comments as he steps back. "Hmm. I might have to scrap the entire thing now."

I know my eyes must grow dark, lust and the overwhelming need clouding both my brain and my judgement. When you look at Regis, he's thin and small, my height but older. I could easily take advantage of it. I step forward and he steps back, his eyes slightly alarmed. "N-Nerys? Are you okay?"

I snap out of it just in time, smiling wickedly. "Perfectly."

But how long will that last?

* * *

**Nadia Halifax, District Six Female.**

* * *

The lights are so pretty. I glance up at the high ceiling, mesmerized. Everything feels so surreal and magical.

"Right, girl, boy, I want one thing from the pair of you and that's all I'm asking for," Grey's mentor, Constance, barks. "I want you to smile. I mean, please, it's not hard but those glum faces won't do tonight."

"Rex says we'll try." Grey grins, looking from the side with a smile. I would smile in return, but the low is coming about it's hard, it's just so hard to make yourself smile.

Constance sighs heavily once more, glaring directly at Grey. "I don't know why I bother. I really don't. See that dopey smile you're wearing? Please, for the love of God please wear that up there."

Grey nods excitedly once more. Whose Rex? I've learned that, over the brief time of knowing Grey, he talks to himself a lot. It's nice though, to see his imagination running wild. He's fourteen, but he doesn't act it. It's almost like his parents have tried their utmost hardest to keep Grey trapped in a time of adolescence. I stare at him hard for a moment, the light bouncing off of his silver suit and making him just pop out at me. It looks beautiful, it does. Absent-mindedly, I run my hand over my own suit, fascinated with the material and texture. I asked my stylist for the brightest, nicest, colourful thing she had; I didn't get it, but this is a close second on my favourite list.

Our outfit is silver - bedazzled and shiny - with our headpieces matching that of tires. Being transportation, cars and rubber are the first thing we do. It's one of the few things that make me happy and remind me that not everything is about morphling. My low is going to hit hard soon, I remember that much from being off of the stuff, but for now, this is enough to make the crappy world seem a little friendly and... colourful.

"Nadia?" I turn to voice of Grey, so young and soft. "Do you want to step up onto the chariot first or should I?"

"I think we have to stand on certain sides," I say absently, looking over at the tributes from District Ten, tall and older with their cowboy outfits. The colours are the right blend, so pretty. "You get up first."

"Rex thought it'd be nice to ask you first, and Arica agreed."

"Who are they?" I ask kindly, trying to soften my mood for Grey's sake. I'm not this friendly normally, but for him, I want to be.

"My friends." he grins wildly.

"What do they look like?" I supply.

"Rex is half-dog, aren't you Rex?" he replies dreamily, staring to his left. "And Arica, she's the fairest maiden in the entire kingdom."

I nod without really understanding, placing my hands on Grey's shoulders to usher him up onto the chariot. He wiggles in his outfit a little - the lights making it shimmer and wave - before I stand next to him awkwardly. I see Lorcan in the distance, but he's too busy talking to the mentor from District Five. Constance, on the other hand, is glaring like normal.

"Arica?" Grey talks again, but I'm not looking at him, I'm looking in front, hypnotized by the flashing lights on the costumes of District Five. I come back in focus when Grey's tiny, calloused hand slips into mine. I stare down at it and Grey smiles softly when I look back up at him. "Arica says it's okay if I do this. You're the princess of the land, I need to protect you."

"What does that make you?" I smile softly.

"Your knight, my lady," Grey beams from ear to ear as the doors open, a flood of lights and cheers blasting inwards. "And I will protect you until my last dying breath, like a knight should for his highness."

* * *

**Dione Martell, District One Female.**

* * *

When I volunteered, I heard those whispers. There was no denying what everyone was saying when they saw me take to the stage. But they knew, of course they knew, that I was chosen. Most of them probably secretly wished it was me rather than the others. Kingston Academy has some strict rules, but the main one is that, when they pick the desired two candidates, they still get the choice. They can still say no. It's not the case of who is the best or who is the strongest, it's the case of being cordially invited to be "allowed" to volunteer.

I trained within a class, yes, but by no means did I actually train with others. They all whispered about me too much.

Yet, here, they scream my name.

We roll down the line easily, leading everyone, and my eyelashes flicker quickly at the dose of bright lights and cameras. Everyone is screaming and a lot are my names, some are Fedora, some I've never heard of. I gulp down thickly and stand perfectly still next to Fedora, towering over him. We're the same age, and yet, his height is what I was many years ago.

I breathe through my parted lips as we begin to near the City Circle, where Esmeralda Snow awaits us. I've always slightly admired - admired her to the point of secrecy, that is - because she's strong and independent. She's a pretty face with iron fists. I'm like that, in a sense. As we begin to slow down, I glance to Fedora, taking in golden-painted skin and tons of glitter.

"Tributes," Esmeralda starts. "We salute you."

I tune out rather quickly though, a lady in the front row eyeing me cautiously. I should look away, but her whispering is obvious - she leans across to the man next to her, hand covering her lips but eyes locked onto me. She's talking about me and isn't bothering to hide it. A sponsor? Or another hateful person?

When I got my invite, I had to take it. There was no saying no for me. Luckily, I was the first person, and my understudy, Carmel, wouldn't get the opportunity if I said yes.

A quick getaway. Something quick and simple.

It wouldn't have raised too many eyebrows, not that anyone would truly care. Oh no. It'd be the case of "where's the home wrecker?" or "where's the local bike?" and that's it. No sympathy or empathy. Just cold, hardened hatred.

Fedora must have been the first invited, too, and I steal another glance at him. He's rather disconnected, really. He talks - small and calm tones - but doesn't interact much. His family is well-known around the district for the suppliers of dead animals, skin made for pelts. I know; I've seen Fedora trying to sell some on the market.

Some years, we get volunteers not from the academy, and nobody really knows why. It just happens, and since Augustus is rather placid on the outside - for looks, mainly - he doesn't go around threatening people either.

The chariot starts rolling again and my mind spins, snapping me back. I've long since stopped looking at the woman, but her words still burn against my own golden-painted skin. As the chariots begin to roll through the doors once more, I sigh, Fedora jumping down before we've even stopped. Swift is over in seconds, clapping.

"Well done you two," he smirks, looking at Fedora's retreating form and then myself. "I guess you both had it in you."

"Where's Aphrodite?" I change the subject, staring at Swift's cold, green eyes.

"You'll find I am your mentor, Dione," he glares, features twisted in a sort of complexity of anger and betrayal. "But, if you must know, she's upstairs. Her exact words were 'I'm not dealing with these two, they're useless', well, I'm paraphrasing of course."

It doesn't sound like Aphrodite. If anything, Swift is probably making things seem worse. "Okay."

"Nice and blunt, how you'll be a treat for the sponsors," Swift rolls his eyes, turning around and walking away. "Losing the attitude makes you much more appealing, Dione!"

I stand there, looking at his retreating form before trying to find Fedora, who, magically, has disappeared into the crowd of tributes and colours. I look around at the other tributes - District Five being notable for their flashing suits made to look like the night sky, whilst District Eight have capes made of tartan - before spotting my fellow Careers. I'm not for an alliance, per se, but I guess a little help wouldn't go a miss. Besides, I'm sure people who know nothing about me is a good start somewhere.

* * *

**Lux Solaris, District Four Male.**

* * *

I glance around hopeful at Genevieve who is still down here with me. Most of the mentors are still here, quite a few of the tributes, but more importantly, all the Careers are here. I gulp thickly and walk towards Genevieve, hoping that her of all people might understand and help me. She looks in my direction just in time.

"Genevieve," I ask timidly, looking up at her and smiling as bright as I can. "Can I ask a favor from you?"

She acknowledges me, nodding. "I suppose so. But make it quick; I have a feeling that the other Careers will come over soon."

"It's about them, actually," I reply, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet, using the rustle of my pre-made seaweed to calm me down. "I was wondering whether you could help me get into the alliance?"

"You're trained, aren't you?" she says, but her eyes widen when she realises that I look antsy. "Oh. Oh Lux. It isn't going to work then."

"W-What?" I stammer, staring at her hard. "I-I thought you c-could say something for me?"

"I can't do that," she shrugs, a slightly guilty look on her face. "At the end of the day, I don't pick who joins and he doesn't. I think it's already established that the brute from District Two is the leader. You'll have to ask him."

"Then h-how do you know you're already in?"

"I'm trained," she replies bluntly. "Sorry, but you're also reaped and that isn't what the Careers are about, Lux. It'd be different if you were trained, but you're not, so you aren't any different to the other saps."

The change in Genevieve's mood stuns me. I blink a few times, studying her features for some kinda truth that she might just be kidding. But no. She shrugs again and mimes an apology before walking away, her mermaid's tail swishing as she saunters towards the gathering group of District Two and the girl from District One.

No. No. It can't be true. My heart races a little and everything becomes so tight. I pull at my collar, the room suddenly hot as the realisation slams into me harshly. Without the Career alliance, I won't have any. The other tributes, they'll stay away from me because I could be, like, a double-agent I guess. They won't trust me because of what my district stereotypes within the Hunger Games, and that stereotype is Careers. I'm on my own. I close my eyes for a brief second and contemplate on what I know, what I could use to sell myself to them; I know medical stuff. All those days spent at the medical centre rather than training, it's helped me.

I could use that. I doubt any of them know about healing and all the different wounds and ailments.

Do any of them know any to suck poison from a wound? I doubt it. I could use that. I grin, nodding to myself; everything will be okay, it just has to be.

Genevieve glances over from the Career huddle and smiles softly, confusing me more. She's nice, but she's blunt. I guess that doesn't make her bad, it just makes her flawed. I wave awkwardly but Genevieve just tosses her starfish-scattered hair over her shoulder and turns around. The smile instantly drops alongside my heart falling to the pit of my stomach.

I doubt I can trust her then. I sigh, defeated, walking straight towards the elevator that'll take me back to my floor. I stop, though, and double-back at the girl from District Three, who waves kindly and blows a kiss, her green and red train blowing to the side slightly, the pointy red hat seeming alien.

I might just have a back-up. I walk over to her, a soft smile on my face.

"Hi, my name is Lux." I offer, extending my hand in an attempt to build something with someone, just in case they say no.

She looks at my hand and then at me, before smirking. "Hey cutie, I'm Bliss."

* * *

**Harlow Bellamy, District Eleven Female.**

* * *

Stepping into the elevator alone, I run my hands down the gaudy, over sexed outfits our stylists had placed on me and Adra. I gulp thickly and silently pray as the elevator arises. I didn't want to wear this, honestly, but I just couldn't turn around and say no. I should of, I know I should of, but it just seemed inappropriate and, quite frankly, a little rude.

I was suppose to be a grapefruit, she told me, to coincide with Adra's pumpkin costume. My hands slide over the yellow and pink fabric, the urge to tug the dress lower at an all time high. Short skirt design, too, which I was completely against but never told her either. I didn't want to ruin her ideas.

The other costumes were nice too; the pair from District Ten represented cattle, in a sense, but designed really good. He had horns, whilst she had a flowing dress in cow-hide print. Everyone looked good and yet I can't help but feel like I was exposed too much. The elevator doors open hastily and, with my hands still trying to tug down on my dress in order to cover up my bare legs, I run fast for my bedroom, throwing myself in the room and locking the door.

I try to breathe, struggling to make the outfit more appropriate. Finally, I manage to pull the thing over my head, shrugging out of it quickly and throwing on a long night top.

"Harlow? Harlow are you okay?" Mako says, knocking on my door. I try to drown him out, getting down onto my knees and clasping my hands together. "Harlow? You can talk to me, honestly, if it's important than you should say."

"Help me father for I have sinned." I whisper quietly, squeezing my eyes shut and rocking down onto my heels and then back up again.

Mako continues to knock, but I also continue to ignore him. I did this all the time when Darren would go a little different, screaming and shouting at the walls. One time, he put his fist through it and I had to pray through my tears in order to make sense of what was happening. He apologised after, of course, but it didn't change a thing. It didn't really help me understand what was happening; only God could help me.

"Amen." I finish, knowing that Mako has long-gone, leaving me to the peace I expect.

I glance over at my clock, seeing the blurred red digits screaming that it's almost midnight. Adra must have come up eventually and dragged himself to bed, too. Thinking about him and his orange pumpkin costume makes me smile softly as I climb underneath the blankets, burying myself deeper into the fabric. His legs were on show too, and he whisper-complained about having to show them off. I know it was his way of trying to make me feel remotely happy with what had happened, and in a sense it did, but then he was gone, I was alone and the guilt washed over me hastily.

It just goes to show that I'm used to having someone to help me, guide me, tell me what to do; from Darren to Adra, to the almighty God, I've always had to have someone there in order to make sense of the things that cloud within my mind. I whimper slightly and bury myself deeper into the blankets.

In the arena, I'll need an ally, maybe more. I'll need someone in order to cope, really. I need someone to help me when things become confusing.

Tomorrow, I'll need to look around and find someone. I close my eyes and quickly try to remember whom is around my age and seems approachable; besides Adra, the selection isn't large and, besides me, the only other female is from District Seven. She might be worth looking into, when I saw her earlier - dressed in a thin dress that resembled a tree trunk - she looked like the kind of person who wasn't mean or sarcastic; just nice and approachable.

Sleep soon tugs me in, the faint whisper of what Darren said to me being the last thing I remember clearly: _don't tell anyone our secret, got it?_

* * *

**Wisteria Arnette, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

When I know that everyone is asleep - the apartment being quiet except for the faint snore from Jayden's room - I open the door quietly and slip out.

I can't really think straight at the moment and sleep won't help; actually, sleep is the last thing on my mind.

I creep towards the kitchen area, my stomach growling. In District Twelve, it was hard to obtain a decent meal from anywhere. Most of it was vegetables, milk and cheese on some good days. I won't deny that my life wasn't easy, cause it wasn't and it's only getting worse. I had a loving family, you could say, but you could also say against it to. I still do. Damn it. I frown, mentally berating myself for already talking like I'll never return.

I won't deny it, my chances aren't the highest or the strongest. A lot of the other tributes have better odds. But, I've always been a gambler, a risk-taker, and I guess this is the ultimate gamble a person could play. I wasn't the only volunteer from an outer district, though, so I wonder if the girl from District Five had similar ideals? Was she taking a risk and knowing it?

I bite into the hard cheese, chew and swallow. Maybe she done it for someone, cause I sure as hell didn't. I didn't even know the girl who was reaped, even though people still hold onto the fact that I might be the next Katniss Everdeen when, in reality, I'm the furthest from it. One of Peeta's first questions was: was that your sister?

No, it wasn't. I didn't know her. I done it for myself, or, so I keep lying to myself. I take another bite, chew and swallow.

I could increase my chances or lower them. If I tried an alliance, I'd be responsible for myself and others. Not only that, but if I didn't treat them good or abandoned them, I'd be hated by many other districts. It shouldn't affect me because these are the Hunger Games, after all, but that doesn't hide the fact that I don't want to be known as public enemy number one for simply acting on my natural instincts to fight or flight. I take another bite. Being alone would mean my chances are only being slashed further and further, and is that wise? I know how to play a game and decreasing your odds is a risky strategy to make. It could work or it could fail.

Do I want to risk the fail that is my death?

I take another bite. Iris. She'd want me to try really hard. Mother and Father too.

I guarantee there are other siblings and parents that want their child-now-turned-tribute to try hard. What are their odds? They're probably slashed. Twenty-four tributes and only one Victor; that isn't the greatest of things to place bets on, and yet, it was always something I managed to twist and turn for my own personal gain. It's not possibly anymore, but I can't help but feel burning anger for the people that'll be doing the same thing to me in the matter of a few days. My "sponsors" will be the people that believe I can actually win it all. There probably won't be many of those.

I take another bite, finishing the cheese and taking a deep swig of the flavoured juice on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator.

The bloodbath will eliminate a few tributes, shortening the numbers instantly. If I avoid that, then I'm one step closer, my odds increasing with each passing day, booming cannon and face in the sky.

I should feel guilty that I'm already wishing the deaths of all the other tributes, but I can't help it. I have to think of myself in this occasion. I have to do what I believe is right for me and me alone. It's not like Jayden needs me as an ally whilst Peeta is more concerned to know about my past than the present. It's like he pins his hope on me being the next Katniss, despite the large age gap between us evidently. Taking another deep swig, I place the bottle back and close the refrigerator, hastily creeping about to my bedroom. I shut the door, jump underneath the covers and close my eyes.

I still remember his breath soaked in the vile alcohol he drank. His words, slurred but holding a strong tone. I remember the way my heart skipped a beat. My sweaty palms and poker-face working their magic to build my confidence, only for it to shatter ridiculously.

My chances aren't great; but any decent gambler knows how to multiple those odds, otherwise, they just find another sucker to pin their hopes on.

* * *

**Tambryn Delevingne, District Nine Female.**

* * *

I open my eyes lazily, the bright but false sun aiming straight for my face. I squint and try to focus, turning over in the plush bed. Then it hits me. Today is going to be good. I just know it. I pull out one of my hands from the covers, staring at the deep lines on my palm. Yes, of course it's going to be a good day, my palm says so. With that thought in my head, I push back the covers and bounce to life, walking hastily to the bathroom. Under the shower and the smell of lavender, I try to picture back to what my aunt Estelle had mentioned the morning before I was reaped:_ that fate was never wrong_. I was fated to become the tribute this year. It's my destiny, in a sense.

I step out, dry out and get changed, pulling on the uniform. I run my finger tentatively over the number '9' stitched onto my upper arm, allowing my body and mind to understand that this is what destiny had planned for me.

"Good morning Tambryn," Bailey greets me as I step out from my room. "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh yes," I smile, taking the seat opposite her. "It was wonderful."

"I'm glad. Now, today, we're going to have to discuss training and what might happen. Do you know anything about the rules?"

"I know enough," I reply softly as I scoop some butter onto my knife, spreading it evenly on the toast. "The Hunger Games are compulsory, you know."

"Of course, I just didn't expect you to take much notice of them. I'm blessed this year then; most tributes avoid them like the plague."

I nod politely and take a bite from my toast, a comfortable silence falling over the breakfast table. After a while, Remy joins us, and then Maxim, one-by-one sitting at the table and joining in on the light-hearted conversation. I smile and add my own comments. Today is suppose to good but not here, not at breakfast. Usually there's a sign of something, and without anyone noticing, I clutch onto the dreamcatcher laced around my neck and squeeze it tight, looking for some answers. My aunt Estelle always told me that a dreamcatcher was for keeping good memories and banishing the bad dreams, but for now, it'll have to work as a link to my life in District Nine; it is my token, after all, and that's what they're meant for.

That way, it'll always be like my aunt is giving me guidance from all the way back home.

"Maxim, have you thought about any alliances?" Remy asks.

My eyes widen as Maxim swallows his cereal. "Um... I haven't thought about it really."

"He can join me." I beam, looking at Maxim with great interest.

"Pardon?" he asks, his eyebrows in a manner that makes me believe he doesn't quite believe me. "Why do you want to be in an alliance with me? I'm the youngest tribute out there."

"Because you're my district partner, silly," I smile. "And besides, you're a great kid."

"Maxim? How do you feel about it?"

I clench my dreamcatcher, using it as some lifeline to my aunt Estelle. This could be it; what my palms and dream told me about. This might've been my destiny, to ensure that Maxim actually has someone that wants to work with him, rather than being alone. I glance at Maxim, hopeful, and he nods silently.

"Settled then," Bailey smiles comfortingly. "Me and Remy will start planning things together as a team."

"Thank you," Maxim says, directed at them, before turning to me. "And thank you too."

"No problem," I reassure him. "I just knew it was what I had to do."

"How?"

"Call it a sign, my dear Maxim," I grin, taking another bite of my toast and swallowing quickly. "You'd be surprised at how many things in life tell you which path is correct; trust me, this was what I was supposed to do."

* * *

**Darek Jacquard, District Eight Male.**

* * *

"You're such a polite boy, Darek," Chiffon compliments me and I smile, spooning the cereal into my mouth. I nod awkwardly and chew, glancing at the clock and my bowl, conflictions arising in my mind with every single damn second. "I wonder where Helene is... have you two spoke yet?"

"We have," I reply. "Helene wants to be allies."

"And how do you feel about this?"

I watch her face carefully, wondering what the comment might mean. I don't have any problems with Helene; she seems nice enough and a part of me feels guilty for her. She approached me, too, which only encouraged me to say yes since it was like she understood me and what I like and don't like. "I feel fine about it, thank you."

"So polite. But, don't say yes for politeness, Darek. Only agree if you truly believe you can trust and rely on her."

On that note, Helene walks out from her room, a stone look on her face. Underneath her eyes are large, purplish bags whilst her skin looks whiter than normal. Something tells me that Helene is taking harder than she guessed. I smile kindly as she takes her seat opposite me, near Velvet and Chiffon.

"Are you two prepared for today?" Chiffon asks since, well, Velvet is staring down into her breakfast rather spacey.

I glance at Helene and she smiles softly, giving me the courage to speak for the pair of us. Yeah, damn, the pair of us makes me feel slightly less terrified. "We're going to try some weapons and skills, right Helene?"

"Yeah," she replies softly, her eyes contrasting and hardened. "We're going to take this seriously. As a team."

"As a team." I agree, watching Chiffon smile.

"That's brilliant, you two. I've never had such mild-mannered and polite tributes before. You might want to think about getting down to training earlier, just to make sure you're as serious as you claim." she responds. I nod, climbing up with Helene in tow. Helene presses the elevator button and we climb in when the doors open, side-by-side.

Helene is rather kind, too. I was always brought up to not judge people before I knew them and, from what I saw, Helene was perfectly normal and her being sick was perfectly normal too. When we talked last night, after the chariots, I learned that our personalities are similar and we have similar looks on life in general. She wants to try hard, I accept that since there's only ever one winner, but it's enough to build an alliance between us. As much as I would've liked to look around, the thought of making awkward conversation that might come across as needy makes me feel sick. Having Helene is both good, safe and trusting.

The doors open with a whirl and Helene steps out. She doesn't say anything, but she leads the way towards the centre where some of the other tributes are gathering, must notably the Career districts. The boy from District One glances in my direction, his eyes on fire, holding the glare. It's uncomfortable, yet, I can't look away, mesmerized by what he could possibly be staring it. Is this to psych me out?

"Darek?"

I snap back at Helene's voice. "Yeah?"

"Are you nervous?" she asks, her eyes slightly hopeful.

"Very," I breathe, watching her shoulders and body relax. "But, I guess we could use the nerves to encourage us?"

She smiles and nods shortly, choosing to step to my side. The other tributes are beginning to pour in, now, and my eyes briefly flick over the female from District Ten, tall and lithe, as well as her district partner who stands rigid and tall with chiseled features. Both would have the sponsors at their feet. I shake my head, mentally cursing myself for being negative over it. You'll do okay, Darek, of course you will. A tall, muscular man stands in the middle of us all, the platform beneath his feet now rising slowly.

"My name is Maestro," he declares, voice solid and strong. "In this room, today, tomorrow and the next day, will be something that could save you. I suggest you take this to your advantage and venture out appropriately. Remember, disease and other variables can kill just as swiftly as a knife. You'd be idiots to not look at the survival skills."

I suddenly notice Helene's form next to mine, a sense comfortably settling over me. I have an ally, before many others, and that's all that matters; I found someone.

* * *

**Magnus Croft, District Two Male.**

* * *

As Maestro continues to talk, I glance over at Dione and Fedora, side-by-side but miles apart. They don't talk to each other and, if I didn't know any better, they won't be trying any time soon. I shake my head and let my eyes graze over Laise.

"Well this is fun." she comments to no-one in particular, though I feel like the comment is directed at me.

Laise is decent, I suppose. I don't particularly like her nor hate her. She's competition, I suppose, and I know that Laise is strong. Her looks might be deceiving, but behind that, Laise is a killer. Not strong and bloodthirsty, but rather calculating. I was in her class at the Training Center. I know for a fact that she's far from stupid and dimwitted. In a sense, me and Laise grew up together but not really, however, I do know her fighting techniques inside and out, and her mine.

"Tributes, use this time wisely." Maestro finishes up, waving with his hand for us to go away.

Most of the tributes stand out idly for a moment, before a few begin to rush off to some of the stations to begin to learn. Laise stays by my side, however, and the other three begin to come over.

"Magnus?" Laise says and I look in her direction. "I'm off to the swords."

"We need to discuss first," I clarify, causing Laise to glare before crossing her arms, defeated. "Genevieve, did you have anything to say about your district partner?"

She glances over her shoulder for the briefest of seconds, staring at the little boy talking with the girl from District Three, before turning back. "Doubt it; looks like he's found some new friends."

"Thought you said he was keen to join?"

"Was you going to let him?" she counters strongly.

"Of course not," I look away, not giving either of the tributes a second look. "I suppose we should fan out and scout the other tributes out."

"You mean bully them." Fedora chips in, the first time I've heard him talk. He looks at me with cold eyes and we both nod accordingly, before he walks away without a care. Fedora seems okay. Probably messed up in the head, but those fall quicker than the strong-minded.

The girls all begin to look at me, one-by-one, as if expecting me to tell them where to go. I might be the leader, but I'm not exactly going to mother them through training. "Go wherever you like, just watch the others and learn what you can. Alliances, specifically, and try not to start some arguments or rivalries. I'd rather not be targeted by hopeful tributes during the bloodbath."

Genevieve and Dione quickly part, walking to different sides of the room. Laise stays, however, just like she did last time.

"Can I go to the swords now?" she asks bitterly, her lips twitching into that of a repressed smirk.

"I suppose so," I say nonchalantly, looking away. "You're pleased to do what you want."

"Oh thank you leader." she replies sarcastically, the sounds of her footsteps chasing her voice.

When I know she's gone, I make my way towards the poisonous plants station alongside the girl from District Seven. This I need to brush up on. For one thing, I don't trust any of them and never will, Laise topping that chart. By learning about poisons, I can detect whether someone might try to lace my food or kill me within my sleep. I've easily the tallest and strongest in our alliance, but I won't go around and brag; that's just as bad as placing a target on your own back. No. I know my skills, but there's no need to let them know them either. It's not even like I have to prove my leadership; they pretty much handed me that position last night rather easily.

The girl looks at me cautiously, eyes widen. I don't say anything, though, just simply acknowledge her presence as I begin to sort through the plants I know.

They'll soon realise that the biggest mistake they had ever made was putting me in-charge - I'll be sure to take them each down when they've used up their usefulness. Emotional attachment? That's not exactly what I'm here for.

* * *

**Alder Hawthorne, District Seven Male.**

* * *

Savannah is happy, and that's fine. I mean, I wasn't really looking at Savannah for an alliance, but it's nice to know that she's... yeah. I shake my head of all thoughts and go back to tying some more knots.

Some alliances are obviously formed, well, yeah, only some. The Careers have banded together like I've seen every year on the television, except this year, they've outright abandoned the District Four boy. I guess being reaped and small-looking isn't exactly the right criteria for acceptance. The District Eight pair, too, they've become allies or they might just be spending a lot of time together. I don't know; I don't want to think too hard about it.

I sigh and tie the knot once more. I need an ally or two or three. Yeah. That'd be great, to be perfectly honest. I place the knot down and look up hopeful, scanning the others for anyone my age that looks like they could use someone. The District Eleven girl looks timid, and that means that she's more than likely never going to get an alliance. Then again, if that's obvious to me, do I want to carry the weight?

Her district partner looks able. I watch him carefully as he notches the arrow onto the bow and pulls back. However, I can't help but laugh when he goes to let go, and the string whips back into his face harshly. He's an option I suppose.

Then there's the boy from District Three. He looks out of place, if I'm honest, just sat on the ground and playing with some pieces of metal. Every now and then, he glances up, looking around, before going back down to his fun. I've noticed him a lot.

Besides that, and obviously Savannah, my choices are limited. Everyone else is older or just not looking needy enough. The little boy from District Nine isn't an option - his district partner seems to be looking after him like a wary mother.

I sigh again and stand up, walking over towards a station. I'm trying not to think badly about it, but the choices are tough and it's not like I can just pick and pray, I have to carefully decide since this person is someone I have to at least trust to some degree. When I reach the station, I look hard at the elderly man with a greying beard.

"Can I have a small, throwing axe please?" I grin, waiting for the man to hand it over. "Thanks man."

With my axe in hand, I head on over to the targets where archery is the main thing. The Career from District One, however, is deadly, and when he releases his arrow, it lands not far from the middle. He doesn't grin or look proud, but poor Eleven looks tiny and wild-eyed right next to him.

"Hi," I grin, holding out my hand. "The name's Alder. What's yours?"

He looks at the hand and then my face, before smiling lightly. "Adra."

"Your aim isn't bad," I lie, since, well, I didn't exactly watch him for long and when I did, he hurt himself. "I throw axes myself."

He studies me carefully as the tell-tell sound of another arrow hitting the target sounds. The District One boy glances at us, almost the say height surprisingly, before going back to his business as usual. "Do you specialise in it or is it one of many talents?" he asks.

I'm almost surprised by his formal tone. Well, actually, not as formal as what Marieco is, but very... wise, maybe, or perhaps thoughtful. "One of many."

He guides out his hand for me to take his place. I stand next to the Career, the lump in my throat making everything that much harder to breathe. I pull my arm back, waiting, waiting, before throwing it with all my might. It spins through the air before floundering downwards. It hits the target for sure, just not anywhere near the centre or even the coloured rings. I hit the white zone, the worse zone, but still technically a hit.

"See?" I grin, looking back at Adra. The Career glances at us again before walking away, stitching up his bow and arrow, before walking away. "What a jerk."

"Was impressive," Adra smiles softly. "I take it you wanted something?"

"An alliance." I come clean.

"I-I don't know..."

"I think it'd be good, you know, since you don't have anyone."

"Oh...

"Please?" I beg, tugging out my bottom lip. "I need someone and you seem like a decent person."

Adra seems to contemplate it in his mind, and just when I think it's bad, he smiles toothy. "I suppose it'd be the better option than alone. Okay, Alder, you have yourself a deal."

* * *

**Finch Caraway, District Ten Male.**

* * *

I stare hard at the course in front me, breathing through my slightly parted lips. I glance down at the trainer for a split moment, and he gives me the nod. Without a second thought, I go barreling down the gauntlet, leaping to my first platform. I land and leap, as if on instinct, as the first soft club comes flying at me with speed. I manage to dodge, ducking under and leaping again. This time, two clubs come out of nowhere, one catching my knee and the other my shoulder. The hit is enough to push me off-balanced and I tumble to the side, landing on the mats below with a thud.

"Get up kid. Try again next time." the trainer says emotionless.

I stand up and brush myself down, looking around the room. I try to spot Piper, but she's made it her mission to avoid me as much as possible. I shrug, walking away.

That's when I catch the eyes of the boys from Seven and Eleven. They stare accusingly, tiny whispers being shared amongst their talk. The thought of what they talk about makes my blood run cold, a deep fire in my stomach telling me that the only solution is to go over there and beat them up. That was my device; attack those who posed a threat to me. Not like a machine, but rather a coping mechanism. Sometimes, you have to learn to be detached in order to not get hurt.

After a while, they look away, but I can't stray my eyes away from them. Internally, I manage to snap myself out of the trance on them, my mind re-routing to where I could go next.

Hand-to-hand combat, Sunny had suggested. Macaulay simply agreed and, frankly, it didn't help me distinguish who is my mentor since they both share ideas and tips; Sunny because she's tough and, like me, is very much detached but also Macaulay because he won at a reasonably young age and not that long ago.

"Do you want to spar?" the trainer says as I approach him, his knuckles clenched and feet positioned right.

He can't touch me, I remind myself. "Sure."

I put myself into a stand and, when he nods, I charge forward with my arms. I grapple him for starters, using my upper body strength to overpower him with ease. It doesn't take much before I sweep out my leg, catching his and taking him down to the floor, on his back, with a heavy thump. I smirk, looking down at the fallen man. "Spar again?"

"...don't think you need it," he replies gruffly. "Go away then."

I shrug and walk away, noticing how the girl from District Three eyes me with a flirtatious smile. I seem to glare enough to make her stop though, as she pouts, shrugs lightly and turns the opposite direction. Then, all of a sudden, someone rushes past me and slams into my shoulder.

"Watch it." I growl, staring at the boy from District Five. His eyes are large and narrowed, but he simply grumbles in response and keeps walking.

The more and more I stay on the outside, the more and more I learn about each of them. Learn their techniques and their flaws. To be perfectly honest, I value my life - despite not really having one - but there's always the feeling that, in reality, going back might not be the bestest of things. I gulp thickly and squeeze my eyes shut, willingly away the oncoming tears. Celeste is probably urging me to try my hardest, but how can I when there's no real motivation? In some dire situations, the thoughts of your family and life in general just aren't enough.

"Hey," I snap out of my thoughts and stare hard at the girl from District Five, her eyes light and breezy. "I'm Nerys."

"I'm busy." I respond icily.

"Sure you are." she smirks.

"Aren't you one of the volunteers?" I deadpan. "Shouldn't you be with the other Careers then?"

"Who said I'm a Career?"

"All volunteers become them," I bite back, keeping my jaw clenched and eyes focused on her. "But clearly, you didn't make the cut."

She smiles more fondly this time, as if she finds my minor insults amusing. "You should learn to not judge a book by it's cover."

"What do you actually want?"

She leans in a little, her face notably pale and freckle-free. A lot like porcelain, I suppose. "To make myself known to you. Of course, an alliance would be great too."

"I don't know," I frown, wondering whether she's truly being serious or not. I've never really thought about having an ally - Piper was clear she was on her own - and, I guess, I just assumed that'd be best for me. Yet, Nerys seems certain and, in a twisted sense, comforting... she makes me feel better than what I feel at the moment, I suppose. "Fine."

"Brilliant," Nerys says deeper this time, an edge to her voice. "You and me are going to get on just brilliantly."

* * *

******One Foot by Fun!.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

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**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Out of these twelve POVs presented, which of the twelve tributes stood out and why?**_

_**Thoughts on the alliances so far?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

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**The district partners will be leg two during the Capitol. Once again, I'm proud of this chapter!**

**As you'll notice, I changed my pattern and randomized the layout of POVs. I decided to study each character, and then hand them a POV that would help me pull out their personality to make it fit, rather than a character feeling... unreal.**

**So far, our alliances are Tambryn and Maxim, the Careers minus Lux, Alder and Adra and lastly, Darek and Helene. Alliances will be updated throughout the Capitol as they come along, before the final list is added to the blog. What do you think of these alliances already made?**

**As you might've noticed within this chapter, many of our characters are a little... extreme? Just wait for the second batch, then you'll understand as to why this story will be the most serious story I've ever done. Sorry for the delay also, my birthday weekend held me up... ;)**

**Anyone waiting on Wild One will have to wait a few more days...**

**Next chapter deals with the rest of training!**


	5. Are We All We Are

**Are We All We Are.**

_Just say it loud, until the kids are singing right back "are we all we are?"_

* * *

**Piper Oxalis, District Ten Female.**

* * *

When the morning light comes through the window, I blink a few times. My hand grazes over my stomach as I stand up, feeling the bitter resentment settling in my stomach over everything. Why me, of all people? It's almost like I was chosen for entertainment value on another level compared to the other tributes. Like I was rigged. It's probably a lie, but whose to say that my name wasn't on all of the slips? My hand settles on my stomach again and I ghost my fingers over the small, forming lump.

I have to care for myself and another life. My child.

That's why I believe I was rigged; they must've known I was pregnant. Then again, no-one does, since it's not that obvious.

I slide the top on, stretching the fabric to ensure that my still flat stomach doesn't look round at all. I could always pass it off as me being bloated, though that's not an excuse you could use in District Ten when food isn't all that plenty. If Sunny or Macaulay asks, I'll just say that I'm feeling sick. Over the short year of knowing both of them - from working behind the bar - I know that neither asks too many questions. Sunny is usually depressed, looking down the neck of a bottle due to her brother's brutal beating, whilst Macaulay is a tragic but lost cause.

Walking out of the bedroom, I notice Finch coming out of his. Yesterday, he was speaking to the girl from District Five.

"Hi." he says awkwardly, unable to meet my eyes.

"Yeah."

We both side-by-side but silent towards the breakfast area, our mentors both there. Sunny looks up at me, her eyes glossed over but jaw set tight. She'll look after me, she says; she keeps saying it both sober and intoxicated, so I'm learning to believe her. We're friends, I guess, and I've always been a shoulder to cry on after it happened.

"Morning guys," Sunny smiles weakly as we take our seats. "Still set on being on your own?"

"I am." I say hardened, glancing at Finch accusingly, as if trying to make him say something. Sunny catches on and looks at Finch too, causing him to give in.

"I got a proposition... from the District Five girl, Nerys."

"What'd you say?" Sunny interrogates him.

"Yes, for now," he admits, shrugging. "I might change my mind before we get there."

"And make a rivalry. Smooth, kid." Sunny does a thumbs-up sarcastically, looking back at me. "Are you okay on your own, Piper?"

"Perfectly." I falsely smile.

It's not the case of being okay on my own, but rather having to settle for it. I'm not just fighting for me. Each thought of the little seed growing inside me like a flower reminds me that, if I don't try hard, I'm stopping them from the chance to survive. They might not remember, or have a life to lose like the other tributes, but why should I easily let my child die? I open my lips to tell Sunny more, to ask her aside to tell her everything about the pregnancy in the hopes that I might be excused from the Hunger Games, but my heart sickens and reminds me that, bitterly, I might just be disposed of quickly to not make the Capitol - or the President - like a fool.

Sunny leans across the table, as if trying to make the conversation. "I'm going to do everything to bring you home, Piper. You were there for me, I'm here for you." she whispers.

As I take her extended hand, I let the words, the truth, all die on my lips; it's not about me anymore. It's about us, mother and child.

* * *

**Grey Slate, District Six Male.**

* * *

_'Nadia seems really nice. You should become allies.'_

I glance to my right, where Rex stands, a wagging tail behind him. He looks at me with his wide, brown eyes, and carefree face. "I do like her, Rex. I want to protect her, like what Arica said, right Arica?"

_'I did that say that, noble knight. Nadia is the Princess of the land, and you're her trusted knight. You should try and look out for her.'_ she smiles, her flowing sea green hair and elf ears standing alert.

_'I agree,'_ Rex chips in, grinning wide with his human teeth, two canines on show._ 'We can definitely trust her.'_

"I don't doubt that."

I watch as my two best friends fade into invisible air, before walking over towards Nadia, a spear clenched in her hand. Her eyes are much more darker this morning and today, compared to yesterday when they seemed breezy, and her skin is a lot more pale. Nadia looks ill. My smile falls into a frown as I get near her, the urge to look after the Princess much more stronger. When she was thrown onto that stage and then tasered, I knew she was the princess, Arica told me and she's travelled everywhere because she's royalty too.

"Nadia are you okay?" I ask when I near. She grumbles before throwing the spear. I follow the direction, the metal arrowhead landing in the lower ring of the target. "You're really good!"

"Thanks little man," she replies heavily, heading to grab another spear from the rack. "Can I help you with anything?"

I bite down on my lower lip, rolling back and forth on the balls of my feet. Nadia has always been nice to me, but that doesn't necessarily mean the Princess wants to have security. I glance to Arica - whose appeared to my left once more - who smiles softly, nodding for my encouragement. I gulp thickly and breathe through my nose.

"I was wondering whether we could be allies," I quickly rush out oy my mouth, causing Nadia to turn around and frown. "I said, I was wondering, well, asking, whether we could be allies if, you know, if you want to that is because you don't have to, Princess, I'm just looking out for you."

Her frown turns up into a smile and she nods, eyelids heavy and droopy looking. "I suppose so. But you don't have to treat me like a princess, Grey."

"I do I do!" I squeal, Rex appearing behind me and putting a furry hand onto my shoulder. "Arica says that you are the Princess, soon to be Queen, and that as a knight, it is my duty to look after you."

_'Well done, Grey, fulfilling your duty as a knight should.'_

Nadia looks at me sceptically before sighing, lips curling into a smile that proves I'm doing the right thing. "Okay then, if you must. Have you tried any weapons?" she asks. I shrug and she laughs lightly, but the laugh is all dry-sounding and weak, like she didn't get a lot of sleep last night. "Well then, we're going to have to get you something then."

_'Go try the hammers, Grey!'_ Rex says gleefully.

_'No no no, the swords are what the knights use.'_ Arica cuts in.

_'They could use archery too!'_

"What do you want to try, Grey?" Nadia asks, cutting me from the conversation.

I blink a few times and think hard about where I want to go and what I want to do. With Arica and Rex bickering behind me, I know what to do, just to bring peace back to my kingdom. "Just knives."

Both Arica and Rex go quiet, nodding silently to themselves with bright smiles on their faces. Nadia smiles softly, too, placing a hand on my shoulder as she tries to lead me towards knives. However, I slip from the grip, watching in front like a knight always should. I need peace in my kingdom, and that means making Nadia happy.

* * *

**Maxim Bauer, District Nine Male.**

* * *

Tambryn leads me around the large room by my wrist, a smile on her face. I stare at her, confused, wondering why she could even be happy at this point. I'm not that sad either, don't get me wrong, but Tambryn is awfully perky for someone who accepted a death wish by asking me as their ally. I feel bad for her because, well, I might bring her down being the youngest.

"Sickles you said, wasn't it Maxim?" she chirps, stopping at the station that contains the girl from District Eleven already.

"Yeah," I smile softly, my mind unable to comprehend anything. "These are awesome, trust me."

"How do you know then?" she smirks.

"I've used one before," I brag, hearing her breathy laugh fluttering in front of me. "Hey, don't laugh, I'm serious and it's awesome."

"I'm sure it is. Go on then, show me."

I step forward, asking for the smallest sickle possible. When the guy hands me it, I balance it out and grin, looking at Tambryn. "What are you going to try?"

But Tambryn doesn't answer. Her eyes are fixated on a pair of tributes in the distance, from District Six, I think, and my words just seem to fly over her head. I frown again, but it quickly turns into a smile when the trainer asks me to step forward, the Eleven girl having left. I stand, ready, and the guy presses a button. My eyebrows furrow as a white, cotton dummy flies up from the ground, standing ready. He smiles coyly and I run forward, the weapon heavy but the excitement in me running high, empowering me.

I raise the weapon and slash, amazed and watching with wide eyes as the pieces flutter towards the ground. I grin and go again, the sight reminding me of the cotton that some of the higher pickers in District Nine used to pick. It was so white, and it always reminded me of the snow that we have never, ever got. A hand on my shoulder snaps me from the thoughts of home and I blink hard, trying to rid the tears from my eyes. Life was boring, but... it was home.

I turn to Tambryn's smiling face. "I'll be back in a minute, little man. The girl wants to speak to me, I'll be back in a minute."

She dashes off, the dreamcatcher around her neck just swishing from side to side. Tambryn's aunt Estelle is really famous in District Nine. The family is, actually, but that's only because people think they're nothing but con-artists, scamming money from decent people. Tambryn doesn't seem that bad; she seems nice. Quirky, even.

"Come on kid, try to tear the dummy to shreds."

I turn around with a wild grin and go back to it. I slash and slash for what seems to be minutes, cotton and pieces of white fabric just spewing from the item. The adrenaline runs through my body like blood, a new thrill for me to enjoy. That's when the low hits. If this is a human, a tribute, would I enjoy it just as much?

"Maxim, this is Nadia and her district partner, Grey," I snap out again at the sound of Tammy's voice. I turn, looking quizzically at the girl - with her wide eyes and purple bags - and the boy, who grins sheepishly and looks younger than what he is since, well, I'm the youngest so he must be older. "I've invited them into our alliance. Well, if you want them to, that is."

I look back and forth from the pair, thinking hard. Then the boy looks over his shoulder, mumbling something even though no-one is there, before looking back and continuing to grin. That seals it for me. He's odd, and I like that. "Sure. The more the merrier."

But as everyone seems happy, I can't help but notice the sinking sensation in my chest. I enjoyed harming something. Am I already becoming a monster that they want from me? No. No, I won't become one, unless I have to. I'll kill for my life, because even if it's boring and dull, it's mine and no-one is allowed to take that from me.

* * *

**Genevieve Arlen, District Four Female.**

* * *

As Maestro calls for everyone to stop, I put the sword back on the shelf. Laise glances at me, smiling, and I do the same. We bonded over our choice of weapon; our swords. I don't trust Laise and I have every reason not to, but she seemed okay and it'd be nice to have someone who I can relate to now that Lux has been banished basically. As we side-by-side towards the canteen, I notice Lux in the distance, walking on his own. I feel for him, though Laise comes into view and I straighten up.

She's good. Really good. Whilst I'm trained, I'm not trained like her. She's like a machine, just powering through with her weapon. She's more than a pretty face, she's a femme fatale.

Before I know it, Magnus and Dione are behind me, Fedora somewhere up front. Out of us all, he's the one who sticks to himself. Dione, well, in her eyes you can tell she doesn't want to be here, but she does it because she feels like she has to, like me, in a sense. Laise and Magnus have a respective relationship where they talk minimal, sometimes snarky on Laise's behalf, but it shows unity. Fedora doesn't like it clearly, since he grumbles and follows Magnus' orders like an obedient puppy.

With our trays of food, Magnus guides us towards the table that Fedora is sat at.

"Your district partner looks so wounded," Laise comments as we all sit down, nudging her head in Lux's direction. "He won't last that long. With that face and those shoulders slumped, he'll be lucky to survive the bloodbath."

"It's not like we're going to hunt him down, though. If he doesn't bother us, we shouldn't bother him."

Laise looks at me as if I'm an idiot, though. "Not per se, but if we come across him, my sword will be meeting his heart. The Hunger Games isn't a place for visible weaknesses."

"She's right. Weaknesses makes you a target." Fedora adds in calmly, not looking up as he spoons more food into his mouth.

"Of course I am Fed," Laise says mockingly, though her smirk isn't detected by Fedora. "People have weaknesses. We are humans, not machines, but letting them known only makes it easier for people to kill you. Your district partner, Lux, he's a walking target and if we come across it, we'll take it."

Magnus nods in agreement, but doesn't say anything. Fedora isn't looking, Dione is eating quietly and by herself whilst Laise just stares at me. I feel the need to fit in for some reason. Without the Careers, I'd be like Lux; rejected and alone. So, instead, I smile and nod in agreement, trying to stay on everyone's sweet side. I feel bad for Lux, I do, but it's everyone for themselves and I want to win. Maybe it makes me a bitch - for not really trying to get Lux in but rather selling him out straightaway - but playing the game is required.

Everyone goes back to eating their food quietly. We're a strange alliance in the fact that none of us are arrogant nor psychopathic, well, from what I can see that is.

And without them knowing, I've been learning some things. Fedora is a crack-shot with his archery, but he lacks the height and prowess to seem intimidating; next to some fifteen year olds, he blended in well. Dione is silent, but her whip is like an extension of her nails, sharp and deadly. However, she's always looking over her shoulder, eyes wide and hardened. Magnus is more... sophisticated, quiet and thoughtful. His claymore, though, makes him destructive. And then Laise who blends well with whichever personality she's planning to use: whether sarcasm or general egotistical. She's like a chameleon.

Being in this alliance allows me to work out their weaknesses easier than from being on the outside.

I snap out of my thoughts at the sound of a loud bang, metal hitting concrete. I whip my head around hastily, finding the District Three girl - the one Lux was speaking with - grinning wildly, eyes staring at the District Six girl, her hands holding air. It doesn't take long to bring the picture together, the tray and food splayed on the floor.

"Sorry," Three pouts, mocking apologies. "I'll be sure to be careful next time."

Six blinks a few times, fingers curling into a fist. "I'll make you sorry."

She goes to lunge forward, but a Peacekeeper appears out of nowhere, wrapping his burly arms around her slender waist. Her eyes are flared and spacey, like she's on something as she lashes out wildly. She's dragged from the canteen hastily, Three flicking some blonde hair over her shoulder and smirking with pride. Then, she does something I didn't expect: she sits down next to Lux.

"Well then, looks like he bounces back fast," Laise comments, dabbing her lips with a napkin. "He's got himself a great ally. Looks like we haven't got to worry about taking out the target on his back then, she'll be doing it in his sleep."

"Why would you say that?" I mumble, confused.

"No reason." she smirks, eating a spoonful of food again.

But I understand perfectly. She'll no doubt use and abuse Lux for what she can get from him. I shrug again, grabbing the fork. Not my problem anymore: I just hope he kills her first.

* * *

**Jayden Perona, District Twelve Male.**

* * *

"Are you coming on the gauntlet or not?" the boy from District Seven asks, his face serious but amusing.

"Are you kidding?" I exasperate, turning to the attention of a soft paddle smacking the boy from District Eleven off like he was nothing more than a piece of trash. "I'd rather try and see the Hunger Games in one piece rather than, you knowing, dying beforehand."

"Suit yourself." he shrugs nonchalantly, before leaping up onto the podium to begin.

I watch with interest as he lands on the first platform before being swiped off. His ally - the Eleven boy - done a lot better, but as he gets up, they smile and Seven sticks his thumb up. I smile too. Their alliance must be based on budding friendship then. Probably the same age or around it. Me, well, there aren't many other boys my age. The District Four boy is, but he's been spending a lot of time with the girl from District Three. District Eight male - Darek I learned - is out of the question because he's with his district partner, and they seem tight.

People are quickly bringing alliances together and I've left it too late. Oh well. I mean, I'll find someone surely... not many people go into the Hunger Games alone. Many want company or that one person who will try and keep them sane.

Snapping from my thoughts, I begin to walk away, heading for the slingshots. My best bet is to try something, maybe show-off I guess, and that should make me... appealing, to others, I guess and that could lead to an offer. Yeah. It makes sense in my mind whether people understand me or not. I don't want to search for people, because that looks needy, but at the same time I am needy and I need someone.

"What do you want?" the trainer asks.

"Slingshot and some pellets," I say casually. "Make them the hardest pellets you have."

"Of course kid." he replies stoic.

As he dips down underneath the station, the hairs on my neck stand up straight. Someone is watching me. That's good; that's a positive start.

Wisteria suddenly comes into view, a few stations over as she looks at making a fire. She collects the flint and rocks, heading out of my vision. She doesn't want anyone; I guess that's because she's, well, she's herself and her personality isn't all cheery and peppy. She's rather content on being alone, but those people are the worse - people without allies show that they have something more to prove or that they will go to any lengths to win.

The trainer comes back up, handing me the slingshot and the bag of heavy bullets. I collect them with a smile and turn around, almost staring straight at the boy from District Four and his ally, the girl from District Three.

"Can I help you?" I smile, not really understanding why they're so close.

"We need another addition, don't we Lux?" the girl speaks, looking at the boy briefly before looking back. So, she's in control then. "And you look like a good candidate. Don't look too shifty or hostile. We like that."

"I might be psychopathic you know," I frown. Do I look innocent or something? "I could be freaking insane for all you know."

"We've been watching you for the last day. We're pretty sure you're not insane, otherwise, why would we want you in our alliance?" she counters, white teeth bared.

I glance at the boy, but it's clear that he's willing to do whatever the girl wants. He should be in the Careers; is he trustworthy? "Jayden."

"I'm Bliss, and this is Lux."

I stare at the pair awkwardly for a moment, silence settling in. The alliance came out of nowhere. Like, literally, I didn't expect them two and I haven't even advertised myself, so to speak. But I'm needy, like I said, and I need someone because I doubt it'd be easy alone. I want to win, but I'm not nearly as strong or threatening-looking like Wisteria or the silent boy from District Five. Bliss and Lux seem trusting, anyway, from what you can learn from someone within a few minutes of speaking. First impressions. Yeah.

"Guess this makes us friends." I grin, the neediness disappearing as I clutch onto my slingshot. This is what I wanted.

* * *

**Fedora Clos, District One Male.**

* * *

People seem to think I'm a little crazy. I rarely speak, but when I do, they take notice. It's always been that way; back in District One, people weren't intimidated by me, but at the same time, they didn't go out of their way to talk to me. Unlike Dione, I wasn't rejected for pitiful reasons, but because I preferred solitude to having friends. Of course, Silver still kept me up-to-date on the gossip, and thinking back to it, I remember Dione's name popping up. I never knew her, but the name struck a chord in me when she volunteered. So she's the whore that everyone calls on.

I don't think she's that bad; but she's an enemy, so to speak, so I don't exactly want to judge her on a personal level but rather a fighting level. To me, Dione and the others, their personalities don't matter, it's all about their skills and what they can do.

We seem to work well together, despite our differences. A well-oiled machine, Laise called us, calmly mocking the boy from District Three in the distance with the grease all over his uniform. We work well and prove that not all Careers are dysfunctional. We are all similar in the sense that the determination to win has made a silent, mutual agreement between us that means we get along, we work together, long enough to wipe the others out. No-one is making the alliance out of friendship - no-one acts like friends to the other - but we're not trying to rip each other's throats out either.

It makes us more deadly, I guess.

"Thinking too much Fed?" Swift mocks from across the table. Aphrodite looks up, rolls her eyes, and then goes back to her pad and pen.

I want to reply, but there's no point. I have nothing really worthwhile to say. I don't do seething remarks or wit, and Swift would never understand me anyway so what's the point? That's this year for us. Silence. Swift makes remarks, Aphrodite does her job well, Dione keeps to herself and then I don't talk. Our escort, Isadora, she gets beyond mad but then Swift leads her away to the bedroom quickly and everything is forgotten once more.

"This silence is killing me."

"Why don't you just go and fuck Isadora and leave us be then?"

Swift snaps his eyes in Aphrodite's direction. "Because, Aph, she's downstairs mingling with the other escorts."

"You're more than welcome to leave. I can look after these two, I mean, not like it's going to get wild or crazy up here."

I smile to myself as Swift stands up, throwing back his chair in annoyance. He stomps like a child towards the elevator, sliding in and crossing his arms. When I hear the whirl of the metal doors, Aphrodite speaks. "Come on, Fedora, I know you well enough to know that you're thinking of something."

"Nothing worth sharing." I reply.

She glances up from her pad for the first time. "Do you want to discuss your allies? Or, pack, I should say."

I smirk. "So you know about me calling our alliance a pack of wolves."

"Overheard you," she smirks too. "Anyone obnoxious or irritating?"

"Everyone is rather calm and determined. We all are trying hard."

"Makes a change," she scoffs. "There's always that one Career whose arrogance leads them to an early death. Looks like this year, you might have trouble."

What Aphrodite doesn't realise, though, is why I call our alliance a pack. I'm like a wolf, a hunter, a predator, a superior mindset compared to the weaker prey. My Careers, they're the same, they're predators too, but every pack falls apart eventually when one goes rogue. In many cases - not entirely rare - a member of the pack would take out the leader in order to take control. That's why everyone was keen for Magnus to take the lead: he shouldn't drag us down in the dirt straightaway, and therefore no-one will feel the need to turn on him earlier than normal.

"I suppose so," I shrug. "But no pack is perfect. Trouble will arise and someone will have to clean up the mess."

* * *

**Bliss Promenade, District Three Female.**

* * *

"Bliss! Would you please hurry up! Has anyone seen Micro this morning?"

I grin wildly at the closed door, Harriet's irritated bark coming from the other side. The covers are thick and comfortable, but for more than one reason, and as I turn over, I fully look at what I've done. Micro laid next to me, shirtless, glasses on the nightstand, covers up to his neck and looking a little flustered.

"W-W-We shouldn't h-have done this," he stutters guiltily, though last night, when I got him drunk, he wasn't complaining. Who knew geeks had little to no tolerance for alcohol. "I-I'm so dead."

I giggle shamelessly. "You only live once, Micro, live a little."

He looks at me with widened eyes once more. "Are you serious? B-Bliss, i-it's shameful!"

"Oh well," I jump out of bed, skipping over to the drawers opposite the room. At some point, Harriet laid out my fresh training clothes for the final day. I wonder if she done it last night, and is simply acting oblivious to the fact that Micro stayed with me? Oh, this is one for the book. "Micro, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I need to get changed now and it's kinda creepy that you're still here, though the attention is flattering."

Micro scurries out of bed, blushing hard and collecting his glasses. He runs a hand through his black locks and opens the door slightly, peeking out. I don't take much notice but when I look back, Micro is gone and I grin wide, skipping across the room to my bed. Bending over, I pull out the large, battered book, flipping it open and popping out the pen on the side of it. Inside are a bunch of scribbles, containing all of my thoughts and ideas. Diary? Oh no, I'm not that immature. A story. Yes.

My dream is to write a book on the Hunger Games, from the view of a Victor; and my story has to have everything. Tension. Drama. Cliffhangers. Romance. Rivalries. Death. Inner struggle. It must have it all.

And I'll have it. I'll go through everything and write it down... best thing about it? No-one can question it because, well, they'd be dead. I won't be judged and I'll have my dream completed, contained in my hands.

"Bliss!" the soft knuckles rap on the door again. "If you don't get moving, you'll be late for your last day of training."

"Coming!" I cry gleefully.

One more day. It's sad, in a way. I've made progress for my book though. I picked the rejected boy from a Career district, as well as the happy-go-lucky boy from the poorest district as my allies. Two complete opposites. They'll bring some good tension, rivalries and plots. Maybe a romance might be involved. Oh! Not to mention the glossy girl from District Six. Me flipping her tray starts our rivalry off great. She'll be after me and that'll bring some good cliffhangers and determination. Best of all? She'll be portrayed as a villain.

And, from this morning, my sordid one night stand with a previous Victor and my mentor. The scandal of it all.

I don't know why Victors haven't thought of this before. Imagine the money and the attention, but most of all, the fans. People who didn't volunteer or get reaped, they'll be able to live through my story over and over again in paperback form. It'll be like they were with me in the whole experience. I throw on my suit quickly, fasten up my hair into a long ponytail and walk out from my room, instantly met with Harriet.

"What makes you think you can take this long girly?" she tuts, looking me up and down.

"I'm the tribute, the celebrity," I smirk, my lips pressed together so tight that it must drive Harriet crazy because, well, I probably look better than her. "So treat me like the celebrity I am or pay the price. Escorts are replaceable, no-one is going to switch me out this late in the game."

* * *

**Adra Church, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

The picture of the squirrel appears on the screen, bold and clear. I feel a little sick, knowing what is going to happen. It doesn't faze Alder though; he quickly slams his finger on the screen, the fluffy body turning into that of bloods and veins, tiny organs contained by tiny bones. He continues to tap rather erratic, and one by one, the bones snap until a giant red X cuts the screen off.

"Damn. I thought I had it right this time." Alder curses.

I gulp thickly and nod. "Yeah."

"I think it's broken you know," he continues, starting it up again. This time, the animal is a small bird. "See, I know this one from home."

The whole station is suppose to help you understand on how to hunt. It's here every year, according to the trainer whose hidden in the corner, but he says that no-one has come to him in years. People don't think about how to skin an animal properly or to ensure that they get the most meat possible. It's a handy tactic; but he says that every year, he's shunned to the dark side of the room where everyone dubs it as pointless knowledge.

"Do you think wild animals will be a certain then?" Alder asks. "I mean, the stations are suppose to tell you what to expect, right?"

"Not necessarily," I reply. "Mako said that some years, they place certain stations to confuse people. You remember last year?"

"The poison house?"

I nod. "Mako said that the stations had nothing to do with the house. There were no special stations, but everything was simple and basic."

"Hey mister!" Alder calls out. "Were you here last year?"

"Every year," he mumbles. "Every year. Every year. Every year."

"And there were clearly no wild animals in an enclosed space," I continue, shrugging. "There's nothing to say that we have to hunt: we might just have to eat food from a packet."

"This is pointless then," Alder groans in frustration, slamming his finger on the button over and over. "Screw it, let's go."

Alder walks off and I follow obediently. Alder is really nice. I mean, he's rough around the edges, but the better people are. Though I sometimes think he's picky; Harlow needs an ally and I asked Alder. He didn't shoot her down straightaway, but he didn't make any effort to think it through, he just said no yesterday. It's the last day and Harlow has no-one. I feel bad for her, I do, but what can I do? Alder said no and he is the leader of this group. I'm suddenly snapped out of my thoughts when Alder stops and I fall into his back.

"Hey watch it," he complains, but doesn't look around. "Adra, Adra, come look at this."

When I look over his shoulder, I see the boy from District Three on the ground, petrol smeared over his forehead, grumbling to himself. The pieces of metal in front of him don't look too good and every now and then, he huffs in annoyance. Alder nudges me. "What?"

"He's hilarious. Just look at him go, like a persistent squirrel trying to grab a nut that keeps getting away. He's all over the place."

"And that's a good thing how?"

"Makes him quirky. I like quirky."

I frown at that. Harlow isn't quirky? There's something more to this, but before I can say anything, Alder is jogging on over to the boy on the floor. I chase after quickly, the thought of being left behind making my heart thump a little harder than I thought. When I catch up, Alder is towering over the crouched boy.

"Hey you," he starts off completely brash, causing the boy to look up with a face of confusion. "Yeah you. What you doing with that?"

"...making something?" he stumbles, his eyebrows furrowing.

"That's cool. I'm Alder, and this is Adra."

"I know, I know everyone's names," he replies with a small smile. "I'm Brigan and I'm guessing this is a proposal."

"Well we've only just met but..." Alder teases, making both me and Brigan smile. "It's a proposal for an alliance. As far as I can tell, you don't have anyone, no?"

Brigan shakes his head. "...no."

"Good. So, you can join us then, right?" Alder persists, determined to have the boy on board. Brigan might be buying it or he might not. But, he grins wildly, and it's obvious. "Well done for picking the best choice."

"Likewise." he laughs lightly, shaking Alder's hand.

Still. Rejecting Harlow but then taking on Brigan leaves me a little bitterly disappointed. Alder seems to be making all the shots without even thinking about me. Isn't this an alliance, a team? I sigh and control myself. This is my team and I shouldn't disrespect it since I'm putting my life in their hands.

* * *

**Savannah DeBeaux, District Seven Female.**

* * *

More kids my age have paired up. I look longingly at the three boys from the varying districts and smile softly. I would have loved an alliance like that; but, it's my own fault. I've not exactly worked hard in making allies or friends. I've kept to myself because I know to do that best. No-one would understand me and my... problems. My parents couldn't understand, so why would strangers?

Besides all of my problems, I am a large problem. My parents no doubt thought that despite never saying it. So, I don't expect a stranger to willingly take my load onto their own shoulders in a game where baggage only drags you down and makes you weaker. That's what Spruce said: problems make you a target. Willow moaned at him from the comment - making me even more conscious than before - but it didn't seem to connect for him. Alder doesn't understand either, pestering me from across the table to eat more food.

Why can't they understand that being me is hard? I'm fat, I'm ugly, it's not something I can change no matter how much people believe it's just a faze of mine.

Alder and his two allies walk away eventually, heading for a survival station in the corner. My longing eyes follow them as they disappear from view and I sigh, going back to the poisonous plants. The trainer behind it is a nice man, calm and collected, only talking to me when he needs to. It's comforting, in a way, to be spoken to when you're wanted - which is few - because it reminds me of home and that's the only thing keeping me together at the moment.

Pushing all the thoughts to the back of my mind, I go about sorting out the plants again. After some shifting and placing, the trainer looks at me directly. "Want to take a bite of the leaf you assume isn't poisonous?"

It's a dangerous ask, but I'm sur e they're prepared for if I kill myself. Otherwise, you know, this is the perfect suicidal solution.

I stare at the group hard and look at the texture of the leaves. Rubbery equals poisonous, whilst rough equals natural. I find a certain leaf, pick it up, before swallowing the confliction and the leaf in turn. I take a few chews and smile softly. "Peppermint."

"You're lucky," he nods emotionless as I take the chewed up leaf from my mouth, placing it in the trashcan next to the table. "Might want to think harder before swallowing next time."

I nod, even though I know a lot about plants coming from a district that deals with lumber and is surrounded by plants. I look up at him again and he nods, pulling the leaves from the table and bringing out some new ones. This is all I'm good at; of course it is, because it doesn't require looks or skills or strength or even that much of a brain. Just the ability to remember and redirect. When he looks back up though, he gives me a wary look - the same look when the Career male from District Two came over two days ago.

I freeze up as a body appears next to me.

"Can I help you with something?" the trainer asks kindly, but I dare not look this time.

"I want to try," I hear a petite, softened voice. "Please."

He goes about pulling out more leaves as the small, fine hands come into my view, swiping the leaves across the table. Girl, obviously, from the voice and the hands. Should I look? Are they looking at me? I tense up even more so than before.

"I'm Harlow," the voice comes across again, still soft. "What's your name?"

Harlow... the District Eleven female. The last kid my age. I glance to the side, her straight hair covering her small features. "Savannah."

She looks directly at me this time, her eyes glassy. "Are you any good at the plants?"

I shrug in response, unable to really answer. She hums, bringing forth a leaf.

"What's this?"

"Maple leaf." I reply quietly.

She hums again.

"You two would make a good alliance," the trainer suddenly cuts in, causing me to look up. He gives me that look again, the look that tells me that i need to follow his advice: he gave me the same look when I almost swallowed poison ivy. "Might be good for the pair of you, you know, but that's just my input."

* * *

**Laise Revilyn, District Two Female.**

* * *

"How is everything going then?" Magnus asks as he calls me and Genevieve over.

"As in?" I smirk.

"Alliances." he deadpans.

"Everyone seems to have someone," Genevieve cuts in, swiping some dark strands from her eyes. "The only loners seem to be the boy from District Five, and the girls from Districts Ten and Twelve."

Magnus nods knowingly, as if he already knew but is just testing us. His leadership is good, I admit that, but sometimes he comes across as being better than the rest of us. He probably doesn't mean it, but it's a notion that Genevieve agrees with even though she hasn't said anything. She's pretty smart too. I glance in Genevieve's direction, admiring her flawless, porcelain skin and dark hair. I wish I had that. Dione, too. Compared to the other girls, I have to ensure that my skills in weapons are great because I doubt I'll be bringing in any sponsors - Dione and Genevieve will be doing that.

"That makes it easier I suppose. Where's your district partner?" he asks.

"Lux has joined the girl from District Three and the boy from District Twelve." Genevieve replies meekly. She's confusing when it comes to her partner.

"Random alliance, but fair play for him, let's just hope he can sustain it with them otherwise Laise will be going after him, won't you?"

My eyes widen and I can literally feel Genevieve stiffen besides me. "Why me?"

"Weren't you the one earlier that mentioned the big ole' red target on his back? I think it's only fair that you be the one to take him out if the opportunity arises," Magnus counters and, whilst he doesn't smirk or smile, I'm almost sure he's smug about his words. I know what he's doing; me and Genevieve are obviously spending too much time together, and he's planning to cut us in half by playing the one card that could divide us this early on: Genevieve's confliction over her partner. "Is that a problem?"

"Of course not. Clearly you can't handle it, so it'll be up to me then, great leader." I smile it away, still knowing Genevieve is unhappy.

Without the beauty, I need to show my skills and loyalty, despite knowing about Magnus' clear mind-games. Magnus nods and walks away, and as I turn around, Genevieve walks away briskly too, leaving me alone. I watch her storm over towards the swords and a part of me wants to follow her - not because I feel guilty, but because she's playing into Magnus' hands and a part of me thinks that Genevieve was the closest I had to a friend - but the other part of me realises that a competition is about, and that means everyone is an enemy, including the ones closest to you.

She'll cool down and get over it. She didn't exactly fight for Lux's side that hard.

I manage to peel my eyes away long enough to glance back at Magnus talking quietly to Dione and Fedora.

He's playing it good, I admit that. He's more clever and tactical than he lets on, but I've always known that about Magnus from the Training Centre. When I was chosen alongside him, I knew it wouldn't be easy. But, then again, if it was easy, anyone would win. I frown, looking back to the swords as Genevieve, light hitting her skin right, pierces a rapier into a soft dummy's stomach.

It's a matter of keeping Genevieve happy - even though we're not friends or anything - or playing the game right and countering what Magnus is setting out on the tables. I've never needed friends, to be perfectly honest. I need to focus on my skills since that's all I can rely on at the end of the day.

If he wants to play, well, I can do the same. He just better understand that he picked the wrong opponent: hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and, well, a woman who knows weapons and survival skills? That's a deadly combination, and Magnus will know that soon enough.

* * *

**Hamlet Althen, District Five Male.**

* * *

Me and Elesa are the same. That's all I can think about as I push the dagger straight through the cotton skull of the dummy.

She can't speak and neither can I. We're not technically branded as mute, but like animals. I grunt and growl, but only because they've made me like this. Elesa is wheezy and groans, because they made her like that. The Capitol... they only look to destroying us. I couldn't communicate with people even if I wanted to. The only thing... my voicebox is weak now.

Zeke should have been Nerys' mentor, not mine. He doesn't help me, and Elesa can't help Nerys. District Five is at a loss.

I've never even liked this district all that much. Everyone knows that it's basically a knock-off of District Three.

"Hey kid, do you want to try a bigger knife?" the female trainer asks, her voice low and rough.

I grunt in response, and her largen.

"Are you mocking me or ignoring me?" she flares. "You've got some nerve, you know that?"

I growl again, hoping to scare her away from me. Just leave me alone, you little Capitolite-bred bitch. I'd say that if I could. They done this to me, they screwed me up, screwed up my life and destroyed everything. I'm nothing more than a ghost now because of what they done.

The trainer seems to fluster, cheeks going an angry red. She gives up, flailing her arms about like a bird trying to take flight, before stomping back to her station. I yank the knife out, flash it towards her in anger - my lips twisted into a scowl - before driving it into the cotton body where the heart should be. I'm not an idiot. I'm more than prepared for this. The trainer only rolls her eyes and I have more than enough intention to throw the weapon at her, but I can't. They'll only punish me once more.

I take a deep breath, my chest feeling hollow and each breath making it rattle, like a marble trapped in a glass jar.

I can't mess this up. I knew this would happen and I had to prepare myself for it. Wasting my chance on this lowlife would make me no better than the people that put me here, and the moment of satisfaction would be wasted by an eternity of darkness. What can they do this time if I win? Of course, with everything, I doubt they'd let such a liability like me go that far.

The bloodbath is probably screaming for me, but that's not for me.

Why don't you talk? Zeke had asked me. Elesa looked at me with those pained eyes of hers, but I could only shrug and ignore it. I'm not looking to annoy or upset either of them - Victors are something of royalty because they survived, they won - but I'm also not looking for help. What can they do besides send sponsors which I doubt I'd be able to maintain? Their usefulness for me has already ran its course.

I notice Nerys has disappeared from the electronics station. She's been there for some time now - and I've always kept tabs on her - though her "ally" is never with her. She told Zeke she had pulled in the boy from District Ten and yet, I've seen that socialise once or twice. It seems random.

"You either need to do something or move on. You're holding everyone up with your constant dawdling and bad manners." the trainer sparks up.

A flash of anger runs through my blood and I throw the knife swiftly, hearing the sign of it landing in the soft cotton. As I walk away, I glance back to notice it embedded in the leg area. That'll do. That's better than last time.

* * *

**Helene Fortress, District Eight Female.**

* * *

"Guess that's it then." Darek comments as the elevator doors close.

"Guess so." I mumble, reality hitting me hard.

With training over, there's only two more days left, well, three if you include launching. Tomorrow will be the private sessions and the training scores, then the interviews, and then the launch. So yeah, three days. I sigh and Darek stands a little closer. It's scary realising that we'll be in an arena that we don't even know about. Chiffon said that the stations would tell us about what to expect, yet, they didn't. I didn't learn anything and I feel deflated about that; how am I suppose to prepare myself? Darek, too, because we're allies and we rely on each other.

The thought makes me smile. Allies. I'm glad to have Darek - I'd rather not go out and try to interact with the others. Particularly when the other tributes look... dangerous.

"Some of the allies are interesting," Darek comments again, eyes locked on the number pad. It's weird because it seems like Darek is used to starting conversations. He comes across as shy sometimes, and that's pretty endearing. "I wouldn't have expected the Career boy to not go with the Careers, you know?"

"Yeah," I reply softly. "In all honesty, I don't think he'd do that well with them anyway."

"Yeah."

A silence falls over us quickly. I think the reality has hit him, too, since he's been like this since after lunch. He tried some weapons, and the gauntlet, but he didn't look that happy at all. Then again, I don't blame him. I try hard to make things good between us, but at times, I realise that our resemblance means that because we think so much alike, thinking outside of the box is harder than normal.

The doors open and we step out. I look at Darek as he heads towards the couch, flopping down. He talked about his family today. About his life and his school; he was popular, athletic, and he had good grades. He had the perfect life even though he never outright said it. I didn't want to talk about mine despite how much Darek persisted, which was, well, not that much.

"How did it go today?" Chiffon asks as I sit down next to Darek. "Did you try everything we suggested?"

I nod. "We did."

"You two are... off today," Chiffon frowns, eyebrows tugging together. "Is everything okay?"

"Not particularly." Darek suddenly cuts in and I look at him, eyes wide.

"Why not?"

"It's hard to try something when you know you're going to die," I cut in, gasping as I realise that I actually said it. I've been thinking it all the time but now... now it's come true. Chiffon looks at me like I'm an idiot and I don't blame her really. "It's hard... you know, to keep trying to be positive when everyone knows that you're likely to die..."

"That's not true." Chiffon declares.

"It kinda is," Darek finishes up for me. "Whether I win or Helene wins, one of us will die. Positivity isn't going to save us."

"But positivity keeps an open mind and makes anything possible."

"Like two winners?" I suddenly add in and I should smile because me and Darek are thinking the same, just like I knew we would, but the thought just makes my chest feel even more hollow than it did before. Chiffon frowns and Darek sighs.

"We're not trying to be mean or awkward, Chiffon, it's just reality is coming together fast. It's not just a matter of training and praying anymore, it's about taking the steps to secure your life."

"Then why are you pushing positivity away all of a sudden?"

"Because how can you be positive when you might have to kill? Taking a life, and still being positive, that makes us no better than the Careers," Darek flares, his eyes suddenly... hurt. "It's hard to be positive all the damn time when people are looking to squash you like bugs."

Chiffon looks alarmed now, eyes wide and staring hard at Darek. I can't even stop myself from doing the same, tears brimming in his bright eyes. There's something more there, as if he's taking something far too personal. He has the perfect life, right? My lips twitch into a scrunched frown as Darek stands up, his fists notably clenched.

"Sorry, I-I'm sorry, Chiffon, I didn't mean any disrespect or anything."

"I think you need some sleep Darek," she recommends, her eyes never leaving that of the boy. "Go on, you need some."

He walks away with his head hanging low and Chiffon suddenly turns her attention to me. I blink a few times - her lips parted to speak something - but the rush hits me quickly and I stand up abruptly too.

"I-I need some sleep too," I lie. "S-Sorry. I-I going to bed."

I quickly walk away, my head clouded with confusion. As I pass Darek's room, I hear the faint sound of an exasperated sigh before entering my own room. There isn't long left before I have to fight for my life. Each time I try to think positive and kind about the situation, I'm smashed down by the reality that a knife could easily fly into me as I run away.

Why be positive when death, the ultimate negative, is so near?

* * *

******Are We All We Are by P!nk.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Out of these twelve POVs presented, which of the twelve tributes stood out and why?**_

_**Which is your favourite alliance? Which alliance do you believe works the best and why?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**All the alliances are pretty much done now, and training is officially over. We have: the Careers, Brigan+Alder+Adra, Bliss+Lux+Jayden, Hamlet, Piper, Wisteria, Savannah+Harlow, Grey+Nadia+Tambryn+Maxim, Finch+Nerys and then Darek+Helene.**

**The alliances will be updated on the blog. I also have a poll up! Go there and vote for your five favourite characters. I'll post the results by next chapter!**

**Hopefully, the chapter will be up next Friday. I want to go back to that date instead of this one. **

**This chapter didn't have a lot going on, but it opens up some interesting plots, character development and leaves the arena a mystery! ;)**

**I also want to point out that the bloodbath is coming up and I need to pick tributes to die... I will be looking at who reviewed and further plots to help make the toughest decision for me so far. **


	6. Hear Me

**Hear Me.**

_Can nobody hear me? I've got a lot that's on my mind._

* * *

**Magnus Croft, District Two Male.**

* * *

That was a stupid move yesterday.

I admit, it wasn't my greatest moments, making it clear that I want Genevieve and Laise to be split up. They probably both know what I was trying to do, and for once, I allowed it to get to me. I always promised myself that I wouldn't be arrogant or controlling - I wouldn't staple the target on myself - but the thought scared me a bit. Laise is deadly and looking to win and I rejected Genevieve's partner on the basis that he wasn't strong enough... both girls have something against me. Pair them up and I could be dead within seconds.

I look at Ajax carefully. I remember his Games from fourteen years ago. I was only four - I obviously didn't watch them there and then - but one of the classes is watching the Victor's recaps. His year was my favourite. He had to deal with similar consequences, a girl out to get his head whilst another wanted his heart.

"Hey Ajax..." I begin, watching as he looks up from his plate of bacon. "I have a question."

"Shoot."

"Do you think it's wise to be the leader of the Careers?"

Ajax smirks for a moment, but it quickly dies and it's almost like the year flashes across his eyes, telling his story. "It's never a good idea, but it's not bad either. The girl in charge of my pack... everyone hated her. She got far because of it, but the rest of us wanted her dead first."

"Was that the Cyra girl?"

Ajax nods. I remember her - they ban us from trying to take the shot now. They said that if we even win, our punishment would be worse than death and Evander isn't one to take lightly. "Be a good leader and don't make enemies."

I slowly digest his words, eyeing up Amity and Laise in the corner of the room together, before going back to my food. My mistake is even fucking worse than I imagined. God. I groan, resting my forehead into my hand. I can still keep things right with Dione and Fedora. I could even make things right with Genevieve and Laise if I just let the thing go, tell Laise there's no need to worry about him, we promise to leave him alone. It's the only solution.

"Did you mess up then?" Ajax asks pretty emotionless. I doubt he cares, but as a mentor, he has to listen to me whether he likes it or not.

"Let's just say that I can fix it, no problem," I reply half-honest, because I have a plan I just don't know whether it'll be successful or not. "I won't be a Cyra."

Ajax half-frowns, half-smirks and goes back to his food. Amity suddenly appears out of nowhere, Laise having gone. She seems to understand and points towards the elevator where Laise steps up quietly. I stand up hastily, pushing back my chair as I race for the metal doors. As they go to close, I slip my hand in, forcing them open to step inside. Laise doesn't look at me, but as the doors close, I sigh.

"I apologise for yesterday," I start, not meeting her eyes. "I didn't mean to force you into something you didn't want to do. I think it's best - for Genevieve - that we don't interfere with Lux and what he does."

"You've suddenly become caring." she comments, but again, doesn't look at me as far as I can tell.

"I don't want a rift in the alliance this early on," I lie. "It's not good for the rest of us if two of us are against each other. It makes sense to keep the peace until numbers become shorter."

There's a pregnant pause before Laise sighs. "I suppose you're right..."

"I'm glad."

The silence becomes thicker now but that's fine. I just need to talk to Genevieve now, or let Laise do that by herself and not hold her hand. I don't want to be a terrible leader but I'm also not looking to help the others out completely. I want myself to succeed whilst the others won't be too well kept. It might sound selfish, but why volunteer if you aren't going to put your mind to use? I'm looking to help myself, not others, but I'm not letting them know that with arrogance or mistakes. I need to focus and think of the future goal.

* * *

**Dione Martell, District One Female.**

* * *

Me and Fedora walk in side-by-side, my eyes casting at each of the little groups together. When I pass the girls from Districts Seven and Eleven, I suddenly feel so much more conscious than I had imagined. They're whispering, sure, but they only glance at me when I walk past them. A part of me wants to believe they're intimidated, scared, that's why they can't help but look at me. The other part of me, the little child within, it's screaming that they're talking about me once more. I can't bear it.

"Morning." Magnus comments as we take our seat at the large table.

I look at Genevieve and Laise, a clear difference between them. Before, they trained and sat together, and today, they're as far apart as possible. Magnus sits in the middle to divide them.

"Ideas for today?" Magnus asks. I look at Fedora and he glances at Magnus.

"Archery. I plan to do something to get my name out there, show some creativity and that I'm not a mindless animal," he says with clear definition, as if making a point. "That should cement me a good enough score. And yourself?"

Magnus taps the side of his nose playfully. "You'll have to find out at another point."

He does that a lot, come to think of it. I never saw him train. I never saw him actually do anything besides glance over stations and ask us for information on the other tributes. Either he has no skills to back himself up, or he's that good that practice isn't worthwhile. Of course, there's another answer I don't want to think about, but it could mean that Magnus is, indeed, a survivalist and this is all part of adapting for him.

"What about you Dione?"

I shrug. "Whips."

There's no denying it that whips are the only thing I'm good at. At home, I had a specially made whip in the Academy. They put thorns in it, requested by my trainer, Argent. Said that thorns were the protection of roses, and that without them, roses would just be pretty and not deadly. He also compared me to the plant countless times, but I guess it's true.

"Fedora Clos, District One."

Fedora stands up silently, nods curtly to Magnus and the other girls before departing. The tension ups when he's left, nobody speaking. We're boring, if you think about it. Swift pointed that out when he watched us at the chariots; no personalities, he said. Mindless monsters.

Without us, though, the Hunger Games wouldn't nearly be as entertaining to the Capitol. Usually, from recaps, the Careers have at least one or two tributes with arrogance and superiority. This year, we're all sedated, stronger in our own elements that don't involve personality. Does it make us more deadly? Possibly. It means we won't waste time in hunting or trivial taunting, we'll just go in for the kill. Worse of all? From the looks of things, we're the group that more than likely won't think twice about killing someone. Genevieve is the closest to remorse, but Magnus clearly pointed out that she didn't have much since she didn't fight for her district partner.

"Dione Martell, District One."

I blink a few times. Already? Well, Fedora is an animal with that bow and arrow. A hunter, born and bred. I stand up, awkwardly nodding to the rest of the group as I walk away. They might believe I'm a pretty face, but even the most beautiful face in the world can conceal secrets, vulnerability and hardship.

Beauty is simply a thick skin.

* * *

**Lux Solaris, District Four Male.**

* * *

The Careers are going. My heart races a little, but I try to focus on what I'm going to do. I might try some weapons, but really, my first aid skills are the top priority. They made fun of me in District Four for not wanting to train or thinking about volunteering, but rather spending time with my mother, the local doctor. What they don't realise is that these skills are just as important as wielding a knife, maybe even more.

As Magnus walks pass me, I freeze up, only releasing as he goes. Bliss glances at me with a coy smile.

"What?"

"You're so cute," she purrs, making Jayden look at her funny. "You get so scared over them. Lux, sweetie, they're teenagers just like us."

"But they're monsters too." I counter, remembering the time I watched Fedora send an arrow straight through the soft skull of a dummy.

"But still teenagers," she smirks. "Cut them and they'll still bleed. Cut them deeper and they'll die."

Bliss' face grows darker at that, before she smiles and nods to herself, mumbling the words over again. Grinning now, she snakes her arm through Jayden's, resulting in another peculiar look from him. She doesn't seem to notice though, her bright eyes and blonde hair making her seem much more innocent than she probably is. But I like Bliss. She was kind to me after all the bitter rejection. Jayden's come along and he's okay - funny and impractical - but okay in general.

Soon enough, Bliss stands up at the call of her name and disappears. Me and Jayden are left at the table, facing each other awkwardly. Bliss has been the medium between us; never have we had to talk really.

"So... Bliss is something else," Jayden comes up with, and I give him a look of confusion. "Like, you know what I mean, being all... perky."

"Guess you could use that word."

Jayden smirks, but the silence has fallen already. I don't really know what to say to him, to be honest. He reminds me too much of the boys back in District Four, all confident and proud. What do I have in common with him besides Bliss? Nothing, and I don't want to discuss Bliss with ill meaning or otherwise.

"Lux Solaris, District Four."

I stand quickly. Jayden leans up a little and offers his hand kindly, which I quickly accept and jet off, being led down the hall. My bones are literally rattling with anticipation, heart thudding against my ribcage. I breathe carefully through my nose, opening the doors up to reveal the room I had grown accustomed to over the last three days; the only difference being that of the watching Gamemakers. The lady in charge, Felidae Glass, is sat in a bigger, brighter chair in the middle.

I bow, swallowing thickly as I look around hastily. Medical supplies. Medical supplies. I spot the small pack in the furthest corner and jog over, my mind reeling with tension. When my fingers curl around the package, I usher a trainer over who sits on the floor. Within seconds, I'm peeling open the packets containing bandages and plasters, a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and some pins. I focus back to a time when I watched my mother stitch up a patient who had an accident whilst training. A teenage boy, brutish and buff. I watched with curiosity, but his eyes just burned into mine. When she left the room for a split second, he scoffed and looked away, almost disgusted.

By the time I come back around - my mind intensified on my mother's methods - the tourqinette is complete. I look at it proudly and begin the next treatment, asking for the man's hand. I rub the alcohol on the fake wound and begin to bandage that up to.

I'm so into my work that when I'm called, I don't hear it. It takes a moment for the trainer to snap his fingers in front of my eyes for me to come back around. I smile with glee as I stand up, bow, and walk towards the elevator in the corner. Mothers always know best.

* * *

**Finch Caraway, District Ten Male.**

* * *

"Finch Caraway, District Ten."

It's been a long time since the first person was called, that strange, silent boy from District One. He just walked through - his head not even held high - and it just felt strange. He feels more machine than human. I stand up, trying my hardest to avoid all eye contact with the other tributes. I don't want to know them when I need to kill them. It makes doing it all the more easier, within reason. Nerys smiles coyly as I walk past her, heading for the door.

A Peacekeeper guides me down the hall until we're at the main doors. I take a thick breath before stepping inside.

"Finch Caraway." I say as polite as I can, bowing to the esteem judges that watch me. My whole body is literally crawling at the thought of being watched for the whole time and being judged. I don't like to be judged; everyone makes opinions and the thought of them looking at me and deciding my fate on what they see, that's a disturbing thought.

I hastily cross the room towards the dummies. I haven't tried many weapons - hand-to-hand combat being my strong point - but a variety is needed. I grab a spear, throwing it as hard and swiftly as I can. It lands within the dummy and I smile because it's not a perfect hit, but it's something. Happy, I move on over to the racing track that the tributes never, ever use. I take my time preparing before sprinting around as hard as possible, pumping my arms and legs. If it's one thing I'm used to, it's running. I don't back down from fights, but I've learned that you can't win all of them and running is the only option left.

When I finish, I glance at the Gamemakers, their faces plastered by boredom and uninterest. I need to spice things up; Sunny said that the scores are vital for sponsors. No-one is going to support a runt with a score of three.

"Can I have a trainer please?" I ask, staring straight ahead. A tall, lean man steps forward, placing the mask over his face for protection.

I put up my stance, and as he does his, off-guard, I swoop in with my leg. With all my strength, I send it flying into his knee, hearing him scream as he falls down. I breathe quickly through my parted lips, jumping up and down to keep the momentum and adrenaline going. He gets up and runs forward, grappling me. We grapple for a while before I see the weak point again, and with another kick, I hit his knee. He cries again but doesn't buckle down. I send another and another, a fast flurry of kicks to the same spot as he tries to push me away, only this time, my fists are wrapped in his shirt.

The desperation hits me as I continue the kicks, forcing him weaker and weaker. When he falls, I stand up and let out a shaky breath. "A-Another."

Two men step forward this time and my mind reels at their resemblance, before their masks go on. One looks like Calvin whilst the other looks like Larsen. I blink a few times as they step forward, the process making it harder to comprehend. It can't be them obviously, but my mind doesn't stop the images of everything flashing across my mind: Calvin, his sweet smile that turned into disgust and Larsen, broad shoulders and wide eyes looking down at me as he kicked me over and over and over...

I'm running before I know it, hollering as loud as I can. My heart is in my throat, forcing tears at my eyes as I tackle the Larsen-lookalike to the floor, sending a fist into his masked face. Hands are grabbing at my shoulders and I'm thrown back, hitting the mat before bouncing up, sending a kick to someone's knee again. More hands grab me and panic sets in, the momentary nightmares revisiting.

I kick and lash out, breathing hard as my whole body fights against me. Someone hits me across the head and I fall, weakened, as the other hands being to poke and prod me like a test subject.

The timer goes off, buzzing loud, and suddenly the hands have gone, vanished, the trainers submitting themselves to the other side of the room. I blink a few times, clutching my stomach because that's the only thing that is keeping me from exploding.

"You may go now, District Ten," a Gamemaker drones. "We have to keep things running."

I stand before bowing shakily, rushing towards the elevator. My mind is reeling, replaying the events. I glance back at the trainers and as they take their masks of, they look nothing like Calvin or Larsen. They changed me. They made me like this; hardened but vulnerable on the inside.

And they're going to help me become what I need to be... a murderer.

* * *

**Wisteria Arnette, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

As Jayden steps up and leaves, I realise that I'm alone. I nod, glancing at the empty canteen that once contained all the selected alliances, talking and bonding. I chose this though. I didn't want an ally when I have so much at stake. Jayden's the closest I have to someone I can talk to, and even then it's mostly one-sided with him talking about his sweet shop in District Twelve, as if I didn't know; it's the only one. I just smiled and listened because it was obviously good for him to get off of his chest.

Then he asked me about my life and I froze because I didn't want to discuss it. So, I kept it small, talking about my sister, Iris, and how even though we're like chalk and cheese, I care deeply about her and our relationship. She is my goal to go home to, but at the same time, my reason for volunteering. She didn't get reaped - she's not got that many slips - but I had to do this for her. I was forced to do this for her.

"Wisteria Arnette, District Twelve." the trainer says, before he makes an 'o' with his mouth and nods.

Of course I'm the last one. I step up, running my hands down my training suit due to nerves, before moving forward. Opening the door, I quickly say my name before going to what I think is best; survival. I gather some rope and a backpack, heading towards the trees in the far corner.

Fashioning the rope into a bungee cord, I begin to scale the tree, briefly trying to remember when I see the boy from District Seven trying this. Hooking the rope over the top, I force myself up, before jumping off the other side. The rope does it's job and holds me in place, leaving me swinging. This will show that if anything happens, I'm able to keep myself together.

I use the little pocket knife from the backpack to cut the rope and I fall, landing nimbly on the floor. I head for the racing track and do a quick circuit, breathing heavily as the Gamemakers look positively bored. As I near my stop, I quickly think of something interesting, my head snapping at all the other stations.

I head for the painting in the end, going by Peeta's advice on that it could help if things become rough. By that, he means the time he almost died and painted himself like a rock.

Defense works as well as offense.

After painting my body in an array of mud colours, I run towards the trees and leap, landing in the bushes. I peek through the leaves to see them watching. Using that, I begin to move around as quietly as possible, remembering the times I used to have to sneak out of the house to pay off my debts and collect my rewards. By the look of one Gamemaker watching the bushes curiously, I know that they can't see me.

I smile and climb out, still looking for something else. Just one more thing. I need a good score for sponsors. Crispin struggled without them, and even though he won, it was tough. Sponsors provide us with the things we need most desperately. Gripping the pocket knife, I head for the dummies on the other side. I watched the District Four boy carefully, and he seemed to know where to strike the white cotton. When I reach it, I put the tip to one side of the jaw and drag it across, effectively pouring out diluted red cotton. I grin. That's a sign I hit a deadly vein! Peeta said they were hidden and if you hit it, it means a deadly shot.

I quickly think back... the wrists! I pull the false wrists up and drag the blade across it, watching the red cotton pour out more and more.

Yes!

"You may leave now, Miss Arnette."

I blink and look up, running a hand over my painted face. I nod and walk away quietly, my nerves swishing around in my stomach. But it's not the good nerves, the nerves I normally had when a bet was too good to be true but I couldn't handle myself. This is the nerves I used to get when everything went sour. I gulp thickly as I jab the button in the elevator. I'm gambling my life at the moment, and I can't afford to abuse that.

* * *

**Darek Jacquard, District Eight Male.**

* * *

After my outburst yesterday, it's hard to look at Chiffon in the same way. She looks at me and treats me like everything is fine and yet, when I stare into her eyes, I just feel like there's hidden tension. I've never really done something like that before. Back home, I was polite and well-mannered, brought up to be a good child that the elderly people would look at and be smitten with. I would never have dreamed of talking like I did to Chiffon to my mother.

But what's done is done and I can't go back. I can apologise profoundly, but there's no point because I'll be going away soon and there's no certainty that I'll come back. I'm not as scared as I imagined I'd be. I'm nervous, worried for the future and what it can hold, but not as terrified as I thought I'd be.

"Did it go well then?" Chiffon asks at the table.

I look to Helene, a mirror of what happened last night repeating. She asked us questions and I lashed out. I bite down on my tongue this time, though, looking at Helene to encourage her to speak for the pair of us.

"It went fine," she mumbles, eyes cast downwards. "I tried hard but I doubt it worked well."

"What did you try?"

"Don't pester them Chiffon," Velvet steps in, and our escort nods knowingly, her tipsy smile being anything but comforting. "They might not want to talk about their private sessions."

Chiffon ponders on the thought for a moment before nodding. "Well, in that case, mine went terrible. Back then, I had no idea what to do and I got a four. It was by nowhere near good enough to gain sponsors and I didn't get a single one. But, at the same time, I didn't need them. My head was strong and I was looking at the future, not day-by-day."

I study her motives behind saying this. Does she assume that me and Helene are keeping quiet because we didn't do well? I didn't think I did too bad, just not as well as I could. Each time I went to take a hit against the target, last night pulsated in my skull and made me feel confused. Confusion is something I've grown adapt to, back in District Eight, but it's like you have to adjust to the different kind of confusion that's ample here.

"Well, if you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to. I just suggest that being open about things might be good. Positivity and open, those two are good things to learn before you're in a place full of negativity and alone, without someone to talk to."

She makes sense. We still have two days worth of life to live before we could possibly die. I nod slowly. "I did okay... it was overwhelming, but I was average."

"Nothing wrong with average." Velvet cuts in and smiles, rubbing her hands over and over again in her lap.

A smile forms on my lips and when I look at Helene, she's trying to hide her own smile. We are average at best, but sometimes, being in the middle is a good thing. We're not targets, but we're not useless either. We're average, in the middle, able to bend and shape over the lines without becoming much too much, or much too nothing. Still. It means that me and Helene need to rely on each other and only us and our skills, since being in the middle means no help because we're looked over so easily.

She's right; there's nothing wrong with average.

"Indeed. Well, let's wait until tonight and see what you get. You never know, you could be surprised." Chiffon carries on.

Even if me and Helene are average, that doesn't mean we'll be the first to die. But, at the same time, it doesn't mean we have a secure placement in the final ten. Confliction clouds my mind and I sit further into my seat, unable to think straight. Average is good, average is safe... but it can't take you to the winner's line. To get there, you need to exceed expectations.

It just looks like I'll have to become more than the polite, well-mannered boy that I've been brought up to be. I have to be that and more... I have to become a Victor in the making.

* * *

**Brigan Knoll, District Three Male.**

* * *

"Sit, sit," Mercury ushers us into our seats, her face stoned and focused. She'll analyze every single number that appears on the screen, telling us in depth as to what they can do since she asked of pen portraits of them all. "It'll start soon."

Bliss struts into the room, flicking her blonde hair as she jumps into the seat, grinning wildly. Micro, on the other hand, has deduced to sitting in the far corner. I frown as I notice the tension between mentor and tribute. Did something happen?

The screen suddenly roars to life, startling me. My first instinct is to grab onto the sleeves of my top, tugging them down. I gulp thickly as Hermes Abbatone appears onto the screen, pristine white smile and pastel blue curls. He looks almost alien, as if he's been dunked into paint, as he begins to talk about the excitement building. I wonder if I could create something similar to a paintbrush, but larger and machine-controlled? It could paint rooms within seconds! I store the little note deep into my mind, the first creation to build when I go home...

The sinking feeling hits me. If I go home, I mean... my scars and burns will help keep me sane, remind me of who I am and my origins, whilst I do the worse act possible and slay others. But there's still the high possibility that, besides all my efforts, that I still die. I could die myself or as another person. These scars... will they still know I'm me, moments from death?

Hermes begins the countdown to the scores. Mercury leans in closer whilst Bliss just lounges back, ordering the Avox to bring her a drink.

The first face is Fedora Clos from District One. He's shorter than the others but just as deadly. Underneath his picture, a blood _11_ appears. I gulp harder than before, struggling to breathe around the lump in my throat.

"He's ruthless. Emotionless. His use of long-distance weapons prove that he takes no mercy in killing, but also no pleasure. Quick and simple job." Mercury comments.

His district partner, Dione Martell, is next. I wince, remembering her whip. She managed to snake it around the neck of a dummy, and with a sharp tug, she snapped the soft neck. Her bright hair and pale skin contains that of a _9_.

"She knows what to do. Like her partner, though, she doesn't take pleasure in killing and prefers to weaken them first. Maybe it's a way to put them out their misery afterwards?"

I nod, despite not listening. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, pounding and filling with blood. Everything feels so tense, so... claustrophobic, the fear eating me alive as Magnus Croft comes up, stoic and broad, with his _10_.

"So the leader, apparently, is still not the best. He's cold and emotionless, like the other boy, but not as talented. He's probably focusing harder on other issues, like presenting himself, causing his skills to be halved with the constant planning. He's probably more dangerous than he seems."

Bliss giggles and I look at her despite my vision going fuzzy. She glances my way and blows a kiss, before looking at the screen once more. Laise Revilyn is next and I see the brief flash of a_ 10_ before I can only focus on my increasing heartbeats.

"Shows her skills a lot, did you say? She's insecure about other matters, like her weight or looks maybe. She puts everything into one thing to... balance out the things she's weak at."

I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I hear Hermes call my name, a brief flash of my picture, before I see a_ 6_. Mercury doesn't make a comment but simply nods curtly. Bliss claps childishly, whilst Micro just looks withdrawn. Everything calms down, the nerves and the anticipation, and I breathe hard for the first time. Bliss comes up next hastily, alongside a_ 5_. She shrugs it off and stands up, not staying to watch the rest. It's a bit confusing, but Bliss is like that.

Lux Solaris, Bliss' ally, he manages a_ 7_ and that surprises me. He could have made the Careers after all then. Mercury makes no comment for him, for Bliss' sake even though she's long departed. His district partner, Genevieve Arlen, is next. She pulls in a bloody _8_, flashing under her picture.

"You might think she's calm and nicer than the others, and sure, she might hold back some due to her lightened personality, but she's as dangerous as the others."

It goes to show that anyone - looks, age or social ranking - can hold back the greatest of talents.

* * *

**Nadia Halifax, District Six Female.**

* * *

District Five is next and Constance groans heavily, rolling her eyes.

"These will be useless. They aren't competent whatsoever."

"Didn't they win last year?" I cock a weary eyebrow at her, trying hard to focus on her face and not the way it blurs and shapes. "With that weird girl."

"Elesa," she confirms. "By pure luck, of course."

"Sometimes that's all you need, Constance." Lorcan cuts in, speaking for one of the few times I've heard him. Life's hitting him so hard, he's resorted to not being chirpy and cheerful like our district knows him. Instead, he's taken up the mundane lifestyle of living life boring.

Constance glares for a moment before focusing back on the screen, the boy's picture fading alongside a bright red _7_. I imagined someone on his own being competent. Who would go in alone if they couldn't look after themselves? His district partner, the tall, lean girl, is next. Nerys, I think. Her picture is long and bright, face clear. It's mesmerizing, in a way, the dark background making the colours and skin tones of all the tributes popping out. She equals her partner's_ 7_, having spent some time around the electronics station.

"You know, Grey, you're awfully quiet." Lorcan comments, looking at the boy. I glance to my side and truth be told, he is more silent than usual. He's normally talking to his friends but not tonight obviously.

Then it hits me the same time it hits Constance. "He's next, Lorcan, he's nervous."

Grey's picture pops up. I hold my breath as a_ 3_ dances underneath his picture. Grey makes a tiny squeaking sound - like that of a mouse or gerbil - before he sinks deeper into the couch. My heart feels for the little boy, though my body is also counting for my own nerves. I'm next and I was by far not in the right frame of mind. The withdrawal is settling in and I'm craving that one shot more than ever. I need to focus. I need more morphling.

My picture comes up and Constance straightens up, alert. There's a long pause before the number hits the screen, so vibrant and bright. A _6_.

"What did you do?" Constance asks, her face amazed.

"I... I don't remember." I admit.

She takes it on the chin, as if I'm hiding secrets from her, but truth be told, I don't remember. I went in and the next moment, I was in the elevator. Everything in-between is fuzzy and grey. I must've done something worth the score, since it's not all that bad; but what exactly?

District Seven comes up, neither worthwhile on memory. The boy, Alder I think, managed an okay _5_. He's not so district-esque as I pictured, swinging from vines and throwing axes like child's play, but rather tame and, apparently, not that skilled. Savannah, his district partner, only manages a _4_; she spent most of her time at the plants section and poisons, so I doubt they were that impressed. Constance makes a comment but I don't catch it, my ears feeling like they're filling up with water, blocked, drowned out.

The boy from District Eight manages an average _6_, just like me. Again, nothing that special but it shows that he has some knowledge on fighting and surviving. His district partner - bright eyed and blonde haired - equals him with a_ 6_ also. Huh. I guess they were holding back. I glance at Grey again, but his eyes are wide and fearful.

"Is Rex or Arica here?" I ask gently, being as sensitive as possible.

He shakes his head though, which worries me. "They can't help me."

* * *

**Harlow Bellamy, District Eleven Female.**

* * *

Mako and Kane stay on opposite sides of the room, the tension between them thick. They haven't stopped arguing. Me and Adra, we're just left here in the middle, wondering what's going on. Mako wants Ida to be there, but Kane is taking that more personal than he should. Mako and Ida have been a team for a while now, so it's likely that Mako would feel more comfortable with her there, rather than Kane. But at the same time, it doesn't mean Mako has to be rude about it.

"Do you think they've stopped?" Adra asks quietly as the female from District Eight disappears from the television.

I shrug lightly, not meeting his eyes. "Maybe."

Adra is a nice person, he is, but he always put a lot of attention towards me that I find odd. He doesn't know me, and yet, he kept asking me about alliances and if I had found anyone yet. I find it sweet and endearing, very selfless too. He's kind; I'm sure we could have been friends back in District Eleven, if Darren would have let me had friends, that is. All I had was him. No parents, no friends, just Darren, even though he worked a lot.

I didn't know whether that was a blessing or a curse.

The little boy from District Nine appears and everyone goes quiet. He's the youngest; he's expected to get the lowest score. Yet, underneath his name happens to be a bright, flashing _5_. It's not large, but it's better than what Savannah or the boy from District Six got. The little one has a lot of strength in him. I smile softly, crossing my fingers and closing my eyes. I prayed before I came out here. I'm not looking for something large or even small, I'm just looking for guidance and a little help.

Nine's district partner appears now. She's older and taller, the leader of their alliance. When I see her _6_, I'm not surprised. She had it in her to do that well. Well done, District Nine female.

Part of what I am is to not be against others. I shouldn't hate or fill myself with jealousy, but hope and love. I politely declined Adra on allies and politely accepted Savannah's offer. I was never once rude or thinking of myself. My parents had taught me that before... before the incident happened.

The male from District Ten is next. He's quite large, if I think about it, and I remember him pairing up with the female from District Five. He manages a _8_, the largest number for any non-Career tribute. Some have got 7's, but he got an 8. I wonder what he did? His picture quickly fades and is replaced by that of his district partner. She has no allies, but she looks more than capable. Her _7_ proves that theory.

"I'm next." Adra whispers pitifully.

I glance at him and share a saddened smile, silently wishing for him to do well. Adra is a nice boy, he doesn't deserve for it to be bad. I find his fingers gently brushing over mine and my first thought is to recoil. But, instead, I let him do it. Adra has always tried to make me feel comfortable, always looked out for me, so I should do the same. It's my duty.

His face appears, solemn and kind. A _4_ breaks it. I feel his fingers tense against my skin and I glance at him, tears on the verge of spilling. His lip quivers but he doesn't do anything, just stares straight ahead. Guilt overwhelms me as I slide my hand away, eyes flicking back to the screen for me. I see my picture, my hair covering my features like Darren had it cut, before I see a similar number to Adra: a _4_. I nod, accepting, closing my eyes for a brief second.

If it's the way to be, it's the way to be.

"It's fine, you guys, the numbers never determine anything. It's all about performing on the day." Mako encourages us from across the room.

"And performing the next day and the next day and the next day until you're out of fight and ready to fall." Kane continues.

"Is that necessary?"

"Completely! Don't sugar coat what's going to happen. They need to prepare themselves and the cold, hard truth will do that, not some fancy words to make them feel better."

"Is that so?" Mako replies exhaustively, but I focus myself on Adra. His wet eyes glance up at mine and I smile, taking his hands in mine to make the pray formation. He has no idea what to go on, but his eyes never leave mine. I close them briefly and he seems to understand, slipping his eyes closed as I silently pray for the both of us.

* * *

**Tambryn Delevingne, District Nine Female.**

* * *

The boy from District Twelve with his chipper smile and light eyes manages a _6_. He's not that muscular, but I also imagine that he has some strength in which he can use. When his picture fades, it's replaced by the other volunteer, Wisteria. Her and Nerys - the girls whom you can't help but know the name of - are the two outer volunteers and are pretty much known by us all. For the Careers, it's an honor. For the reaped, it's a death sentence.

The girl equals her district partner with a _6_, which, again, I expected. As her picture morphs into that of Hermes Abbatone, he concludes the private scores that'll help the Capitol-public decide on whom to sponsor, if they choose to.

"Right," Bailey says, flicking the television off with the control. "Now, I think everyone should go and get some sleep. Tomorrow, we'll sort out interview prep."

"I have a good feeling about tomorrow," I smile as we stand up, looking down at Maxim. "I sense that it'll be a good event for our alliance."

"What makes you say that?" he quizzes as we begin to walk away, leaving Bailey and Remy.

"My senses again. They tell me that tomorrow, it'll help our alliance go even further. I'm literally tingling with the energy!"

Maxim gives me a wary look before breaking out in a sheepish grin. "Okay Tambryn. I should go get some sleep... goodnight."

He opens his door slowly, slipping through the small gap before shutting it again. I do the same, slinking into the darkness. Yes. Tomorrow will be a good day because everything is pointing towards it. We're getting closer to the arena and I'm not all that scared. Each time I feel a smidgen of fear, I grasp my dreamcatcher, looking for some guidance from Aunt Estelle. It reminds me that fate twines itself to make things either right or wrong, but it's never wrong itself. Each twist and turn is thoroughly plotted out and is the right thing to do.

I slide under the covers still smiling. I wonder if Maxim is scared? He seems to be handling this rather calmly, but at the same time, it could be denial, much like Grey. I asked Nadia as to why he talked to himself, but she said that they were his imaginary friends and that it could be his way to cope with the trouble he's facing. I've never heard of a fourteen year old having imaginary friends, but then again, whose to say that he thinks like that? He could feel much younger in mind.

My door suddenly opens and I sit up in the darkness, alert.

"T-Tambryn?"

"Maxim?" I reply to the shadows, the lights in the hallway having gone off. "Maxim, is everything okay?"

There's a pregnant pause and I can't even see if he's there anymore. But, I hear the soft fall of steps. "C-Can I stay in h-here?"

The question shocks me, really, but Maxim has withdrawn into himself a lot lately. Could it be because of adding Nadia and Grey to our alliance? I hope he doesn't feel out of place, I'd hate to think I might of upset him after the whole prophecy of me needing to ally with him.

"Of course you can Maxxy," I say softly, shuffling in the bed. The soft footfalls increase closer, before the cover to my right whips up, the mattress sinking slightly. I sigh lightly, remembering how young Maxim truly is and how horrible all of this must be playing on his mind despite never showing it. "Goodnight Maxxy."

"Goodnight Tammy."

Silence settles in and I snuggle into the covers more, resting my head on the pillow. I stay silent, studying Maxim's breathing. When it grows heavy - when I know he's fallen asleep - I allow my heavy eyelids to close. No matter what, I'm going to do everything I can by this kid. The signs, fate, they all pointed me towards Maxim. He was reaped alongside me for a reason. We are district partners for a reason. Whatever that reason may be, I'm going to make sure that I do everything I can in order to ensure that Maxim is okay.

It's the least I could do for someone so young. Our fates have twined together, Maxim, and now you're stuck with me whether you like it or not.

* * *

**Nerys West, District Five Female.**

* * *

There's a knock on the door, causing me to turn around. Regis steps in, his light eyes lined with dark eyeliner. He looks edible.

"Can I help you?" I ask, running a brush through my dark hair.

"It's time we begin to sort you out," Regis says smoothly, sending a rush through my body, tingling my spine. He definitely doesn't mean that but I can interpretate it any way I like. "Hamlet has gone off with my fellow stylist, Katarina, so that leaves us to do make-up and hair this morning before you go to your escort and Elesa."

"Whatever you want to do to me, Regis," I purr, trying my hardest to hold back the darkness enveloping my heart and eyes. "Just do it."

He eyes me cautiously before stepping forward, a bag handle curled in his fingers. He steps towards my vanity table and slams it on top, pressing the button and watching the trays and doors open up, revealing the plenty of colours, like a rainbow. I look up at his face, lips scrunched up, as he studies the make-up.

"Your dress is going to be jet black and furry... I want something to highlight your eyes... like the colour red. Red will stand for the blood you will spill. The anger inside you, the pure, pure fire that's burning inside your body that's going to erupt."

"It also stands for lust."

Regis completely ignores the comment though, still continuing with finding the right shade of red. Apparently, there's so many to choose from that he spends a while looking, completely ignoring me or my suggestions. That just makes the darkness inside me grow. I've never been one to take rejection or ignorance lightly. I've always gotten what I've wanted.

"So how is your alliance with the farm boy going?"

That snaps me back to reality, taming the shadows of lust from crawling over my heart and swallowing it. "It's going fine. Finch is a nice person."

I'm completely lying though. Finch is average at best, but he's hot and that is all that matters. He didn't take a lot of persuading into an alliance, and I've tried hard in order to make the alliance seem more friendly rather than what the other brings to the table, but Finch is less than responsive. He gives me small answers and tends to walk away a lot without telling me where he's going, not like I'm his mother of anything because I'd rather rut him into a mattress than play a sweet and humble life with him.

Much like that other guy in District Five, or Lysander, or Lysander's brother or even the guy that once thought I was his wife.

Lust is a powerful drug. It's more overwhelming than anger or betrayal. It smothers your insides and leaves you hot, uncontrollable... dangerous.

"I see you haven't tried finding anyone else," he mumbles, dabbing his fingers into powder pots of rouge. "Any particular reason why?"

"Someone sounds jealous that they aren't my favourite boy anymore." I tease, running my tongue gently over my bottom lip.

He looks at, flabbergasted. "A-Are you kidding me? That's far more than inappropriate, Nerys."

"Inappropriate feels... naughty." I purr, the darkness coming about again.

"N-Nerys, you need to behave. Besides... I'm gay. I don't like women."

I see red almost instantly. My skin is literally on fire, screaming, crying, begging for me to do something. I angrily lash out, swiping my hand across the table and sending his bag of make-up to the floor. Reds and yellows and blues and greens fly out, smearing the carpet. Regis screams, but my hand is already around the glass vase for flowers and I'm throwing it across the room - towards Regis - before I have any time to think it through. Regis dodges it however, slipping out the room with a terrified expression.

Red represents lust. But, leave that lust to boil like a fire, and it soon becomes anger. Pure, hot white rage. Lust and anger... that's a deadly combination, so I've learned.

* * *

**Alder Hawthorne, District Seven Male.**

* * *

My stylist Angeline has been prating around for some time now. Each time I ask her what's going on, she seems confused and agitated, snapping at me for no reason. Like, that's not cool!

"Look, no no, you listen to me for once!" she complains into the phone, her light pink face expressed into anger. "You need to find me some more supplies of goose feathers. Yes, goose feathers. Goose. Goose as in the bird that resembles a duck but isn't a duck. Not duck feathers, goose feathers! I swear, if that incompetent Regis has taken all the goose feathers... oh. Oh. So it wasn't Regis? Who was it then? Delorean? Delorean took all the goose feathers?"

"Um. Angeline?"

"Shush!" she intercepts, finger to her lips. "Well, you tell Delorean that he can't use all the goose feathers for that little brat from District Eleven because I possibly have a winner here and it's more important than him."

Little brat from District Eleven? Adra! I grin at the thought of him right now, his stylist trying to make him dress in goose feathers when the boy is as eco-friendly as they get. He got sick just looking at pictures of the insides of animals, I doubt he'd be that comfortable knowing that there's a featherless goose out there because of him.

"Do you know what? Tell Delorean he can take each one of those little goose feathers and he can shove them where the sun doesn't shine! Good day!"

Angeline slams the phone on the desk, hands on her hips. She breathes carefully through her nose, huffing and puffing as her chest rises and falls.

"Is there a problem, Angeline?" I ask innocently, watching her face flash furiously.

"Yes, there is! My idea for your clothing has vanished. I needed goose feathers and Delorean has taken them all for the little poverty-ridden child from District Eleven."

"That's not very nice."

"Being nice won't help me or you," she counters, jabbing her finger at me. "If you're nice, I might as well tell them to explode your plate straightaway."

I see red almost instantly. I clench my hands, standing up and knocking my chair back. "That little poverty-ridden child from District Eleven happens to be my ally and my friend! Adra! He has a name and it's Adra! Unlike you, he's the kindest person in the world and actually has a heart that is red, not black!"

I see Angeline's jaw clench. "How dare you think about speaking to me like that. Think you're special because you're a tribute? You're nothing but fodder for the Careers and the mutts."

"And you're nothing but a puppet to the Capitol. Think you're special because you're a stylist? You don't need a brain to put clothes together, that's why it works well for you." I reply bitterly.

"If it wasn't for me, nobody would even know your name." she hisses.

"If it wasn't for me, nobody would know your name! You wouldn't even have a job!"

Angeline glares, unable to find an answer. I'm huffing hard, my skin vibrating from the anger that rockets through my bones. The anger subsides after a while, replaced by the cold fear that I am nothing but fodder for the Careers. I slowly back up, hitting the chair with my leg and falling down onto it, exhausted. Angeline does the same, but the hue across her cheeks is still the same. Neither of us say anything and for a moment, I feel bad for screaming at her when she has to help me. Then I remember how she talked about Adra and it disappears quick because Angeline isn't a nice woman.

"Do you want to apologise to me?" she suddenly asks, flicking her long eyelashes at me.

I think on it for a moment, weighing my options. "Not particularly." I answer honestly.

"Fine," she says as she stands up, her tone none too pleased. "I will go and find you another stylist. I can't bear to be in the same room as you."

She heads for the door, closing it behind her. "Likewise." I mumble when she's gone.

The silence falls over me and I finally think about Angeline's words. Fodder for the Careers. Do I not have a shot at all then? Am I not a tribute, but simply a walking-already-dead target? If I can defend Adra, then maybe that'll give me some advantage. I can only hope.

Because in the arena, you can fight for your allies all you like, but sooner or later, rather than defend their fronts, you'll need to stab them in their backs.

* * *

******Hear Me by Imagine Dragons.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Thoughts on the scores?**_

_**Favourite POVs again? Any change in your favourites?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**This chapter is earlier than I expected! I want to go to updates on Thursdays, and besides, I'm away over the weekend so I wouldn't be able to update whatsoever and that's not cool when I have targets to meet.**

**As you can see, some of the tributes are cracking under the pressure, whilst others are realising that they need to do more.**

**I don't like the private sessions that much; so I decided to use it as small as possible, like always. Same with the scores, just to get them done and noted. As for next chapter, it'll cover the interviews (more than likely shortened like the private scores to focus more on the tributes' minds and relationships) as well as launch and the revealing of the arena!**

**I noticed that people are questioning Harlow's religion. In my mind - despite being a dystopian world - I imagine that some things like religion must have slipped through the cracks. It's hard to stamp something that large and varied out completely, no matter how tough the government is. I mean, religion has lasted a long time... there's always going to be people that carry it on in secret, possibly.**

**Remember that stories will possibly be fleshed out over the story, as long as the character doesn't die in the bloodbath. If they don't, I'll flesh the background out over the course of their life for when the time comes right. There's a reason for everything.**

**I'll post the poll results next chapter. ;)**


	7. Life Starts Now

**Life Starts Now.**

_And you're so far down. But you will survive it somehow because life starts now._

* * *

**Adra Church, District Eleven Male.**

* * *

Delorean smirks as he begins to tussle the feathers on my shirt, his eyes burning as he stares so hard.

"Something amusing?" I ask, perplexed by his attitude.

"Nothing for someone so innocent like you to worry about," he waves it away, continuing to ruffle the feathers annoyingly. There's a silence, Delorean's lips slightly parted as if he's ready to say something. "Since you won't ask, I'll tell you. Angeline is the stylist for your friend Alder, I believe, and she's upset that I have all the goose feathers."

My mind constricts at the thought of the poor animals that lost out because of this outfit.

Delorean takes no notice of it though, grinning to himself like an idiot. I gulp thickly, quickly remembering the interviews only in an hour or two, I can't remember, I can't really think of anything at the moment. Each time I try to focus on my angle, I realise that it's not me, I'm not to made like this, and my mood quickly deflates at the long struggle ahead of me. Delorean pats my chest and that snaps me back around.

"You're free to go now," he grins proudly. I nod, adjusting myself slightly in the brown suit before walking towards the door. "Oh Adra," I stop and turn around, his arms crossed his chest. "Please flaunt it in front of her, please, you can't miss her because her head is so far up her own backside that-"

I close the door on his words, feeling rude and grateful at the same time. The Peacekeepers quickly begin to escort me down the hallway towards the stage, where Hermes Abbatone awaits me with that child-like, predatory smile. The doors are opened at the end of the hallway as I enter, a dozen or so colours spilling out into the plain, grey hall. I gulp again, nerves building up as sweat begins to bead on my forehead.

The first person I see is Harlow, her dress more reasonable than her chariot outfit. She smiles weakly, before turning back to Savannah. Alder is next, his suit a light, lazy blue. He bounds over, hair falling over his gleeful eyes.

"What up man?" he slams his hand down on my shoulder, the contact making me wince. "Brigan is over there talking to his district partner."

Always about him, I think bitterly. He wanted Brigan in the alliance because he was a cool person, according to himself. Harlow was, too, but he downright rejected her and I never understood why. Then he went and got a perfect six, higher than both mine and Alder's score, cementing his usefulness in this alliance. I don't hate him - I don't know him - but I can't help but feel like I was a choice because Alder could find no-one else, and then Brigan comes along and that's all the more better.

"Lot on your mind?" Alder cuts in.

I shrug. "Just a bit."

The small conversation has already grown awkward and tense. It could be me thinking and planning out the hard task of projecting a perfect image - like Mako had suggested - or it could be my underlying resentment against Brigan. I don't know. I just want to focus. Alder soon gets the message, sighing harsh as he walks away. I catch Harlow's eyes again and another soft smile, the gesture making my heart flutter in my chest.

Harlow would've been a good choice. Brigan can stay, sure, but Harlow would have added to the team. Savannah, too. The five of us as allies. It could've worked. As a team, we would have been a huge threat from the sheer number of us. We would have also been a target. I sigh, giving up.

I should've just stuck with Harlow.

* * *

**Fedora Clos, District One Male.**

* * *

The music breaks up any chit-chat, some guys with clipboards asking people to suddenly become quiet. Everything grows increasingly tense as the other tributes are lined up in order, me and Dione right at the front. I smirk slightly, pulling on the black bow tie secured around my neck just a little too tight.

The lights suddenly turn off, a small amount of lucid light peeking through the entrance. I glance up at the screen, noticing Hermes Abbatone walk onto the stage, a spotlight following him around. He makes the pleasantries - my mind focused solely on tomorrow - before Dione is ushered up. She doesn't say anything, just simply lifting her long, golden dress and teetering up the steps. Dione. She's okay; I'm sure she'll make an impression.

Hermes kindly helps her into the seat and Dione cracks the first proper smile I've ever seen from her. Oh. That's new. I cross my arms over my chest and focus harder on the screen.

They talk politely - though Hermes makes a few suggestions that has the crowd in awe, such as if Dione has ever thought about modelling - before an alarm rings. I perk up at that, remembering my place. Eyes burn into the back of my skull and I turn around, meeting Magnus' cunning eyes. He nods curtly and I respond, confirming our silent, mutual agreement on an alliance within an alliance.

It'll probably end sooner than planned, but every pack needs a leader, an alpha, and Magnus can't be that without some back-up; a beta.

"Fedora Clos from District One."

I quickly mount the steps, adrenaline running through me like the first time I hunted down a fox for it's pelt. It was hard, tricky, the auburn little creature dashing in and out of the bushes and rocks. When my arrow slid in his throat, my body was tingling with the high of my first, rare kill. Only the best could catch something as nasty and sly like a fox. Bright lights blast my eyes as I cross the stage, falling into my seat when I realise it's closer than I expected.

"Fedora, Fedora, Fedora," Hermes rolls off his tongue, eyes full of darkened desire. "Has anyone ever told you that your name is... pretty?"

The crowd scoffs, loving his attention. "I'm well aware, yes." I answer smoothly.

"Are you aware that many believe your name is for a girl, not a boy? Is there something you're not telling us?" he smirks, the crowd now roaring with laughter. I should blush, but instead, I simply smile the comment away, causing him to frown. "Ah, I see, rather emotionless. Okay then, Feddy, let's talk about your score; an 11. How do you feel about that?"

"It's what I expected." I nod along.

"Confident as well. You have the entire package, do you not?" he smirks again, trying to trap me. "Of course, counting out your height."

Another fit of giggles. I just wickedly smile it away, keeping my eyes locked on the blue curls on his head. "I think I have everything that is needed of a Victor. Baiting out your opponent simply makes you weak, Hermes."

"Not when the idea is to do that, it doesn't," he counters bitingly. "Why can you be so confident? From what I hear, there are many other tributes just itching to wipe the biggest player out. Is that a... stupid move, on your behalf?"

"Nothing's stupid when you're in a place like this," I smirk, hearing a broken giggle coming from the back, alone. "However, tomorrow, everything could be and we'll see how I adapt. If I lose, well, you'll have the last laugh, will you not?"

Before he can answer, though, the buzzer signals the end of my interview. Hermes stands, his eyes burning into mine like Magnus' earlier. He doesn't bother to raise my arms - neither do I - so I simply walk to the end of the stage and climb down the steps. I pass Magnus almost instantly and, when no-one is looking, he fist-bumps me as I head towards the elevator. I'm more than ready for tomorrow; these tributes are like the fox - they won't be easy whatsoever - but that's okay, because I don't mind a challenge. But first; our wolf pack must hunt.

* * *

**Bliss Promenade, District Three Female.**

* * *

When the male from District Two comes down the steps, I can't help but stare at him. He was good, really good; he'd make the perfect antagonist. He was cunning, cool, a superior mindset compared to the unoriginal, evil killer that cackles before each kill. I'll have to add him into my book too. Maybe a fight in the bloodbath, and how I could beat him but not kill him. That'd be a cool way to add him in.

"Bliss Promenade of District Three."

I giggle, running towards the steps as my dress flows. I asked for this specific colour - bright yellow. Yellow represents sun and happiness, a colour that could... sell things. It'd help sell myself, my story, my life. I fluff the dress as I walk across the stage, Hermes standing with a different kind of smile on his face. He doesn't look so mean like he did with the others - he looks understanding as he takes my head and helps me into my seat.

"Bliss. I just can't... my feels for your name, my dear."

"Thank you," I thank him, placing my hand on his knee. "My parents decided they wanted a child who would stand out, so my name became Bliss, because I would bring bliss for the household," I put the ruffles of the dress down and run a hand through my blonde hair, smiling at all the usage of yellow thanks to Valeria, my stylist. "I think it suits me, don't you?"

"It's wonderful," he joins in, no malice in his eyes like with the Careers. "Now Bliss, I want to ask about your feelings for your allies, Lux and Jayden, I believe?"

"Oh them," I smile softly, smirking on the inside. This is perfect. Time to sell us as the band of merry gentlemen, goody-two-shoes. "Me and Lux are like a brother and sister. The districts might've kept us apart, but if we had lived together, we would have been inseparable. I like him more than my own friends back home!" Everyone laughs at that, and I remember the happiness from one particular little sheep. "And me and Jayden, he's like an older brother who is hot. That's all I have to say about him."

When I glance down the steps, Lux is grinning and Jayden, further back, has red painted cheeks. Perfection.

"That is beyond precious," he coos as he places a hand on his no doubt invisible heart. "You've grown so attached."

"Y-Yes," I break, letting the false tears roll down my face. Did I not mention I was a good actress too? "I don't know how I'm going to live without them."

There's something hidden in those words. Living without them. Of course, when the time comes right, Jayden and Lux will die. I won't kill them; well, I might. It'd be a shame when Lux grows mad and lashes out, trying to kill Jayden. His knife will cut something vital, and he'll begin to bleed out as Lux will come for me. It'd be self-defense, and I'll try so hard to save Jayden, holding the wound. But it'll be too late as the blood pours out and his cannon follows Lux. I'll be tragic, I'll cry, I'll win for the pair of them.

Everyone loves to root for something whose had a tough life.

"I'm sure you'll be fine, my dear," he says sympathetically, and the other tributes must be reeling at my special treatment from a hateful man. "You seem like the kind that could handle herself no matter the situation. Shush, don't cry now, I'm sure everything is going to be okay."

This was almost as easy as pulling Micro was. Speaking of the bespectacled geek, I notice him in the crowd, lips held tight and face fearful. Does he think I'd tell the world about our night of passion? Of course I would, but not here and now. I need to win first. People would just assume me a slut, whereas, after fame and a book, they'd understand that Micro pushed the moves on me and I had no other choice because he was a figure of power.

"I'm so thankful for tonight, Hermes, it has opened my eyes up so much."

Oh. Nadia. I look to the line again, seeing the weathered girl with angry eyes. Huh. I guess she took the attack more personal than expected - that's good.

Hermes stands as the buzzer rings, grabbing my hand and lifting it high in pride. I grin as humbly as I can, waving to the crowd with tearful eyes. They'll be eating out of my hands so easily, the little pampered lap-dogs. They're going to help me become famous.

"Bliss Promenade, the golden-hearted girl!" Hermes calls out. Oh. That's a good title for my book.

* * *

**Grey Slate, District Six Male.**

* * *

"I need you guys." I beg to the air, waiting for Arica or Rex to appear. My heart tugs and yearns, tears pricking at my eyes. I can't live without them; I've never had to. When my sister left, and my dad soon after, they were there for me, comforting me. When my sister left, Arica came. My dad went and Rex suddenly appeared, helping me cope. I need them. I can't be without them. "...please?"

"Grey Slate of District Six."

I snap out of my hopeful haze, a hand pressed against my back and pushing me towards the stage. My mind reels as the tears continue to pepper, stinging and burning and making me feel so hopeless. The bright light blinds me for a second, my hand trying to shield my eyes so badly.

"Come on now Black, you can't hide from me forever." a voice beckons - Hermes, I think - and the crowd chirps into laughter.

There's hands on my back again as the light begins to not try and burn me, Hermes face coming into view. He pats the seat opposite him almost mockingly, curling his other finger forward for me to follow. I gulp hard and stumble along, my hands gripping onto my suspenders in order to feel connected. My eyes briefly look out into the crowd, though, and I'm instantly terrified with the colours and the people, all staring back.

"Of course someone with the name of a colour would be fascinated with colours," he jokes as I stumble towards my seat, falling in clumsily. He sighs, looking at me with those dead eyes. His lips open and part for a few seconds, but he shakes his head. "I just don't know where to start with you," then, someone in the crowd shouts about insanity or something and he perks up. "Oh, that's completely right. Green, do you see dead people?"

The crowd roars into laughter. "...no?"

There's another laughter and my eyes try to find the source of it all. "Ah, I see, so you just like to talk to yourself, correct?"

"I'm... I'm talking to my friends."

"Friends."

"Yes, friends," I insist, feeling my chest tighten and skin literally crawling with the millions of eyes boring into me. "A-Arica and Rex."

Hermes absorbs the information for a moment before sighing again, eyebrows crumpled. "There are no tributes named Arica and Rex."

"They aren't tributes. Arica is a fair maiden and Rex is half canine, half human."

His eyes widen as if he couldn't possibly understand what I'm even saying to him. He nods, squeezing his eyelids shut. "So, you're telling me... you talk to invisible people? Right?" When I don't answer, he sighs again. "So not dead people, but invisible, imaginary people. In your head... seeing dead people would be more entertaining and helpful."

There's a slight pause. "...sorry?"

He waves it away though, voice bored. "I guess I don't have anything else; I can't possibly screw you over when you've pretty much reached the limit yourself. Goodbye, Blue."

I sit there for a few seconds, staring hard at the man. He doesn't shift or blink or anything, and icy claws tease at my heart and make me feel like crying. The buzzer blares and I stand quickly, rushing off the stage as the tears begin to slide down. I need them. I need them so badly, and yet, they're not here. Where are they? They've... they've never abandoned me before. Hands are suddenly on me and I look up through the tears at Nadia, look worse than the day before and the day before that.

"It's okay little man. He's just a prick." she comforts me, wrapping her arms around my tiny frame. It's comforting, just like Arica and Rex were.

"Savannah DeBeaux of District Seven."

Nadia pulls away and, using her thumb, she tilts my chin up. "Be brave, okay? He can't do any damage."

I nod hurriedly as Nadia leads me towards the elevator, her dress a multitude of colours and patterns to resemble her love for anything shiny or pretty, like a magpie... she's all I have now. Without Arica and Rex, I... I don't know how I'll cope.

* * *

**Savannah DeBeaux, District Seven Female.**

* * *

I take the seat, hating the way the dress makes me feel like a balloon trapped. It's tight, fitting, making the added weight tighten around the seams, like little cupcakes hanging over the edge of their container. Cupcakes. Bad analogy.

"Savannah, so, I'd like to begin with what I believe is for everyone... liking the food?"

I knew this would happen. I prepared myself, but the blow hits my self-esteem quickly and I already want to crawl into a deep hole. "It's okay," I lie, pushing myself deeper and deeper into the cushions of the seat, bitterly thinking about how everyone can see me, they can't miss me, hippo-girl sat in an awkward, purple dress. "It's different to home."

"Of course it is. Here, forcing yourself to be sick is perfectly normal and okay, isn't it folks?" he exclaims dramatically, and the crowd cheers. "We've all had those days where we want to devour the whole of Panem but not put on a pound!"

My eyes widen and I push myself further and further into the couch. "I-I guess..."

"Do your parents know of your bulimia and confidence issues, social anxiety and possibly a self-deprecating attitude?"

My whole body goes cold as I nod along. "Y-Yeah."

"You must just be a peach of a daughter," he teases, crowd chuckling at the man paid to rip us to shreds psychologically, before it's done physically. "Now, the question is, why are you so conscious? Is it because you're so averagely average that you need to stand out in some way?"

I'm almost shocked by his blunt, offensive tactics, but the dull numb in my hungry stomach reminds me that I deserve this for being what I am... ugly, fat, disgusting, unlikable, unloveable, useless, a waste of blood and breathing... "...maybe."

"Don't want to play along? I completely understand. I'm sure you've never had anyone to play along with anyway. How are your "friends" in District Seven?" he asks, air-quoting the words friends like they would mean nothing to me. I gulp hard, heart rhythmically slamming against my ribcage in an effort to just stop. "Do you have any at all?"

"S-Some."

"You're almost as bad as Yellow was," he sighs, using two fingers to rub circles on his forehead. "Are you not going to give me anything whatsoever?"

There are a few murmurs in the crowd and I glance experimentally, quickly regretting it and pushing myself further into the seat, even though it's not possible. I just want to fall into a black hole and never return, never having to worry about putting on weight or being judged because I'm not as thin or pretty as the others, never having to worry about being looked at like I'm a freak. Hermes just continues to sigh, something he's been doing a lot lately. When I don't answer, he gives up, throwing his hands in the air.

"Clearly you can't do anything right. No wonder why you need to stand out... you're boring, plain, a little chubby and frankly, no-one cares about you all that much."

That gets me, the sharp nails around my heart sinking it, tearing it shreds. I can't contain the whimper that breaks my throat, his truth hitting me hard. He's right. He's right and no-one cares about me. My parents tell me that my bulimia is a phase, and yet, they ignore all the signs that I can't continue with everything anymore when I look like this... I am like this.

I'm unable to take the staring, the whispering, the tight dress and the constant reminder that I'm beyond saving. I stand up abruptly, tears streaming my face as I grab the train on my dress, screwing it up into my chubby hands as I run off the stage, damaging thoughts hammering away at my brain. There's a frantic gasp from someone and I almost run straight into Harlow, meeting her sad eyes for a brief moment. She's just a reminder that I'm useless. I dodge past her, clipping her shoulder as I continue to run for the elevator.

When I'm inside, I slam the button hard and fall to the floor, bringing my knees to underneath my chin and allowing the emotions to take over, a strangled cry escaping my throat.

This is it. This is what it feels like to truly be loathed.

How have I not killed myself yet?

* * *

**Hamlet Althen, District Five Male.**

* * *

I carefully continue to study the screen. I missed this last time. Every other tribute who has finished their interview, they leave, many in tears or anger flashing in their eyes. The last one - the girl from District Seven - ran off the stage before it was even up. She allowed him to get the better of her; like he does with everyone. The only one to have a successful interview was the creepy girl from District Three. Hmm. Interesting how he'd be nice towards a sociopath.

"You aren't suppose to be here anymore," a voice comes across, and I turn to face the guy with a clipboard. "Every tribute has to leave after their interview."

I simply shrug and turn back to the screen, the boy from District Seven growing increasingly angry and red in the face at Hermes questions.

"Oh. Mute boy. Right, I see, well, I'm sure you can hear me and I'm telling you that you need to go back to your floor."

I continue to ignore him, watching the boy on stage become more and more angry until he seems to flip Hermes off, standing up on time with his buzzer and stomping towards the steps. I glance at his posture as he storms past me, smirking at how easily he came undone under pressure. The Hunger Games would eat him whole in seconds. I don't mean to be an expert; but I've had experience and practice already.

"Are you just ignoring me?" he questions again and I glare at him. Another Capitol-bred puppy. "Right, so you can hear. Now, you need to leave. You're a few districts behind."

I playfully bring my hand to my ear, telling him that I cannot hear him properly. He grumbles from beneath his blue, long hair before walking away, apparently leaving me alone. Good. I need to focus.

The District Eight girl goes up next. Calm and collected, till Hermes taunts her for being sick at the reaping and she goes pale again, ready to be sick once more. She's replaced by her district partner whose polite and kind to Hermes, answering his abusive questions with clarity and obliviousness. Another one to survive; he'd do well.

The girl from District Nine plays up nicely to the crowd, talking about her home and her life, her beliefs, completely ignoring whatever Hermes spits at her. When he asks something, she answers something completely different, not playing into his hands. She'd handle it well; denial is a good thing for some.

Her partner is small and mouse-like, the youngest. He's okay, handles it well, but breaks at the last second when his skills and age are brought up into conversation, alongside his odds. He freezes, tightens, and his district partner scoops him up at the top of the stairs.

So far, everyone is breaking or handling surprisingly well. So far, the girl from District Three, the District Eight male and the District Nine girl, they've handled it well. Nerys done good; she did lash out a little when mentioning her outburst against her stylist, Hermes apparently knowing everything and having sources everywhere.

Me? I couldn't respond. It was amusing, watching him become fluster and break, rather than me. I simply shrugged or raised my eyebrows at certain questions. He brought up my choice of mute, knowing I can speak. I just ignored him with a shrug.

"That's the guy!"

I turn to see two Peackeepers coming towards me. Anger flares up as I notice the whiny, puny little blue-haired man behind the burly white suits. They start to grab at me, but my natural reaction is to fight back against authority. I struggle, whine, stomping on one foot before punching the other on the mask, though the pain hurts me more. They eventually get the better of me, shoving me towards the elevator. As I pass the metal doors, they quickly slam the button, leaving me inside like a trapped animal.

The sense of claustrophobia and darkness is comforting, though, just like the previous year of my life. It gives me more clarity and a drive; winning will allow me the freedom I deserve.

* * *

**Genevieve Arlen, District Four Female.**

* * *

"I'm surprised you even won to be honest." Odyessa taunts Octavian from across the room, knowing how to push her brother's buttons.

I sigh, sipping softly on the drink and staring hard at the full-length window. Lux is sat nearby, though I don't know how he feels when the mentors begin to do this. It makes me feel queasy, in all honesty. I've never liked confrontation that much, particularly when it comes from the people that are suppose to be looking after you. It shakes my confidence in them.

"Likewise, dear sister," Octavian brushes it off, and I turn my head to see him looking deep into his book. "I would've thought that all the dirt underneath your fingernails might have been enough to commit suicide."

"Only the weak would do that, yet you were the exception so... besides, this all comes down to you not thinking I'm good enough."

"I think you're plenty good enough. It's your own confidence that is lacking."

"It's River..." she finally decides and I roll my eyes at her placing the anger onto her brother for doing nothing. He didn't do anything; just ignored her and read his book quietly. I definitely got the better mentor in my opinion. "She's jealous of all the attention I got. Just because she's no longer the only female - and before you say anything, Annie doesn't count - from District Four. People just love me more than her."

That almost reminds me of the day my sister took me swimming in the ocean. District Four has the luck of having the chance to swim, and it was always so nice, the water splashing over our skin as we tried our hardest to beat the other... now, the thought of it makes my stomach churn and bubble, like millions of insects crawling over my skin. We had the rivalry like Octavian and Odyessa do, before it all went... off...

"Then calm down. She's not here so there's no need to be a bitch about things." Octavian deduces.

Odyessa's sigh reaches my ears and I sink deeper into the sea, focusing on the window. I can't even look at Lux without feeling guilty and annoyed at myself and him. Magnus made Laise target him, but then, he took that back and decided to leave Lux alone. I'm thankful for that, but Laise so quickly turned against him despite knowing my indecisiveness concerning him. How quick would she stab me in the back, despite me thinking that some sort of friendship is between us?

The same could be said about Lux and that creepy girl. She could so be manipulating him, but he has no choice because he has no other allies besides Twelve and, well, they aren't exactly the luckiest of districts to associate with.

But tomorrow it's about me. Octavian and Odyessa can argue as much as they like, but when tomorrow comes, they'll have to focus and try as hard as possible, otherwise Calypso will be none too pleased if their bickering and joint mentoring for the first time results in early deaths for their tributes.

"You okay?" I look to Lux, feeling the unease in my stomach. "You look a little... sick."

"I'm fine," I brush it off. "I'm focusing tomorrow."

He nods, before his eyes look at mine directly. "...are you scared?"

Truth be told, I haven't thought about it too much. It was like a dream until tonight, until Hermes reminded me that, without a district partner in my alliance, I could be dead quicker. He didn't say it in so many words but rather hinted at the possibility of being killed quick without a person to back me up. I guess I am. I'm terrified because a life could be taken in the blink of an eye, something I've witnessed before and will witness tomorrow no doubt. "Y-Yeah. The unknown is... horrifying."

"But you have the Careers. You have safety," he counters, but rather than hearing bitterness in his voice like I expected, it's... sad, down, rather disheartened. "I'm sure the others are just as prepared, maybe more, than you. You have nothing to worry about," he pauses for a moment. "Until... until you might have to kill them."

Surprisingly, I'm not too worried about that. "Same goes for you, you know. Be wary of your allies."

He smirks. "I should most definitely say the same thing about yours."

I stand up abruptly, a smile on my face. He managed to cheer me up a little, but it doesn't take away the fact that he's an opponent. God. If I knew Lux before this... we could have been friends, at the very least.

"Goodnight Lux." I say as I walk away, gulping thickly afterwards.

"And you, Genevieve."

Don't root for me Lux; I can't handle it.

* * *

**Jayden Perona, District Twelve Male.**

* * *

The next morning is as tense as ever. Each time someone goes to speak, the slicing tension seems to push their lips back together. It's ridiculous how people are so scared that they can't speak - I'm terrified, but not talking would be just as bad as accepting an early death.

"Your interviews seemed to go okay," Crispin tries to make a comment, but when I look at him, I'm only reminded of the small, meek child he was when he won. I have respect for him, but it's hard to take away the broken child that won from within. "I think it will help you gain sponsors. Later, me and Peeta will go about talking to some and trying to pull some money in."

"Thanks," I offer a smile, realising that the tension radiates between Peeta and Wisteria. I glance to the side, watching Wisteria bite gently into her apple. "Are you okay?"

She swallows and offers a kind smile in return. "I'm fine thank you. You coping?"

"Eh," I frown, shaking away the moment. "Mixed feelings."

"It's understandable," Crispin offers. "I mean, in any case, you're bound to be nervous about everything. Finding out the arena for the first time is the most nervous moment you could experience," he pauses for a moment, taking a bite of toast before smiling weakly. "Of course, after that, it doesn't exactly leave."

"I'll probably be better when I know what I'm facing."

"There are always surprises though," Wisteria now chips in, gulping down another piece of apple. "I mean, surprises make the perfect entertainment and that is what it's about, isn't it?"

She doesn't sound bitterly about it, just simply acknowledging the concept. Wisteria is rather... reserved. We've talked about our past - my childish love of sweets breaking in - but she barely lets things slip.

I close my eyes briefly as Crispin and Wisteria begin to share a conversation over preparation. Bliss and Lux know the drill; we run forward, grab what we can, avoid conflict and run. We don't pick fights or fight back, we dodge and grab and sprint like our life depends on it because, well, it does. I hope they don't change their minds; I know I'm playful and the chipper one of the group - with Bliss theatrical but calculating and Lux being... human - but I hope they realise that this is a group effort...

A group I still don't know what to think about. Is this what I wanted? I wanted - no, needed - allies and they came to me. I didn't have to stress and worry about recruiting, because I was recruited... I just don't know how I feel about it. Bliss is becoming more and more undone, and her comment last night about us being more... it didn't sit well with me. I just didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to embarrass her.

"Do we need to leave yet?" I say abruptly, not even knowing I'm wanting to get out of here. Maybe because Peeta and Crispin are reminders of what I need to be, but not thinking I can do it. A mocking reminder that I might not live.

"You could go now, if you want... you'll have to wait for your stylists, though." Crispin offers.

Great. Ara hasn't been one for timing. I lean back in the chair and try to think things through. I'll regret wanting to leave early, but for now, I need to go. I need to do things... anything. I don't know whether I've made mistakes or the right choices, and sitting around, dwelling on it, that won't help. I need to move before I force myself into depression.

"O-m-g, are you ready to go, Jayden?" Ara's perky voice suddenly hits me. I nod and stand up.

As long as I move, heading for the future, I won't have to think about the past and whether I've screwed things up.

* * *

**Helene Fortress, District Eight Female.**

* * *

Pistach leads me into the elevator. I look at the strange man curiously, wondering how Darek and his stylist are doing. He has to go up separate, according to rules. I'll be entering a hovercraft within one member from each district, and Darek will be in the other. It's strange to think of us as being apart; I'm so used to Darek's company, it feels... weird, without him, like I'm alienated.

"Pistach?" I say, the man humming for an answer. "Do you think I'll be okay?"

I don't know why I'm asking it. But, some comfort would help me with the whole idea of possibly dying in a few seconds. It feels like an execution, and Pistach just so happens to be my last visitor.

"I don't know kid," he murmurs, glancing up from his gadgets. "I think it's up to you. I can't predict what will happen. But, if I had to answer, then I'd say no. You won't be okay. No-one is ever okay, whether you win or die," he shrugs it nonchalantly, as if he doesn't want to decipher my chances. "Everything is up to you, Helene, so you make your future."

"You make it sound easy."

"That's because that part is easy. You can make yourself okay, but then you have to worry about all the other variables."

That doesn't make me feel so great. I sigh, deflated. "Thanks Pistach."

"No worries."

The doors open and I walk out, Pistach trailing behind, still staring hard at his gadget. The large hovercraft pierces the sky with it's metallic covering, taking up half the flight pad. The other half has the other hovercraft, but it'll be empty. My one has the hangar down to walk up and I begin to walk forward, emotions swirling in my head and stomach rhythmically.

I notice the other elevators opening, tributes walking out. The male from District One, cold. The female from District Nine, amused with amazed eyes staring at the machine. The boy from District Eleven, timid against his stylist's side. My heart lurches when the girl from District Nine rushes across the gap - abandoning her stylist - heading for the small boy from District Six; her ally. She cuddles him briefly and I'm only reminded that I'm on my own and I could die on my own. Could I get to Darek quick enough? I could die and he might never notice, trying to find my body crumpled up against the Cornucopia.

"You'll see Darek soon enough." Pistach comments.

Will I? He'll be on another plate and I might not even see him. I could die before meeting him. He could die before my very eyes, inches away... I've relied on him too much.

Soon enough, attendants come down the ramp and begin ushering the tributes up, one-by-one. I'm soon called and I turn to Pistach, wondering what's happening to him. "What about you?"

"Another hovercraft," he comments again, eyes peeling away from the device for a second. "I'll be there before you. Don't worry, Helene, I'm not leaving you."

"Are you coming into the arena with me?" I say playfully, though the sentence holds hope.

He smirks. "Go on, get going. I'll see you there, okay?"

I nod and begin to walk away from him, my mind both reeling and feeling heavy at the same time. The attendant grabs my hand and ushers me up and into my seat. I freeze, remembering that I'm going high... my heart stops, fingers achingly holding onto the arm rests. "I d-d-don't want to."

She smiles it away and clamps my hands in. I begin to panic, heart racing and breath shortening. Tears prick at my eyes as she slides the needle into my arm.

If I can't handle the trip there, how can I handle the blood, gore and murder that'll surround me? How can I handle my own death?

* * *

**Piper Oxalis, District Ten Female.**

* * *

I stare hard at the other wall of the hovercraft - straight over the head of the boy from District Three - focusing solely on a patch of metal.

The hovercraft lurches forward and a tightened scream pierces the air. I follow the eyes of everyone else, the girl from District Eight in hysterics. The attendant looks shocked, staggering backwards as the girl wails and wails. My heart constricts. She wouldn't last a day. It's sad to think that someone might break before entering the arena, taking out their chance.

That then leads me to myself; I should be happy. I don't know her, and her death means a step closer. At the same time, I'm not cruel or heartless, and the thought of someone being hopeless really manages to make me see sense. I was blessed last night when Hermes didn't bring up my pregnancy. I doubt he knows - though he seemed far too personal with many tributes - but I was beyond sick with worry at the thought of being found out.

They'll never have to know.

There's a loud drumming sound that cuts out all other sounds, including the screaming girl. Suddenly, I feel weightless, turning my attention to a small window. The sky isn't so blue up here, but rather darker and stormy-looking. It puts a whole 'nother atmosphere towards what will be happening in a mere few hours. I'll rise, run, fight and try my hardest. I can't promise my victory, but I can promise that I will try my hardest.

As we start moving forward, I notice the boy from District Three becoming anxious. I wonder how Finch will be like? His ally is on this flight, the girl from District Five - Nerys. She seems rather... content, with the flight. She's leant back, eyes closed, breathing normal. Three has his allies on his flight too - both District Seven and Eleven represented by their male tributes.

I'm on my own. I wanted this and I don't feel any shame otherwise. It's about me and my little beansprout.

He or she will never learn of mummy's sins.

The hovercraft slows down suddenly, causing my eyes to widen in curiosity and alarm. That quickly? Either an hour flew by - quite literally - or the arena isn't as far as it seemed. We begin to descend, my stomach knotting up hastily, heart plummeting to the bottom of my body. So soon. It's all about to happen.

I'm terrified.

We land, a large thump rocking the cabin. All the other tributes mirror my confused but noted expression. The door peels open, making me see grey walls and concrete flooring. Peacekeepers await at the landing whilst the attendant undoes each of our straps, starting with the female from District Eight who looks ready to be sick once more. She runs for the entrance, grabbed by a Peacekeeper and taken off in a certain direction. The female from District Two goes next. The male from District One. Finally, they get to me, taking off the hook. I meet eyes with Three once more and I feel haunted by his horrified eyes.

He's so young, I realise. Younger than me. Someone's child. In the future, my own child could be sat at this point. I feel sick again, lead down the ramp and grabbed by a Peacekeeper hastily.

I'm led across the floor, watching the boy from District Twelve being taken through another door. He looks so... anxious. I feel his sympathy, realising that anxiety is another of the many emotions that are riding my body like a tidal wave. Finally, I find my own door, and the Peacekeeper opens it kindly. Inside contains my stylist, Wolfgang, and the reality just continues to hit harder.

This is it. My last supper, so to speak.

"Are you ready?" he asks, rugged voice sounding rather soothing at the moment.

"...as I'll ever be."

* * *

**Laise Revilyn, District Two Female.**

* * *

My stylist, Jasa, just paces the room back and forth, running the clothes through her calloused fingers, torn from the years of sewing no doubt.

"There's nothing special about the fabric of the top," she says emotionless. "It's simply cotton, so I expect the place to not be so cold or so hot," she continues to run it through her fingers, even sniffing the fine material that I'm ready to not feel comfortable in. "Nothing special whatsoever."

She hands me the top and I quickly examine it myself. It's plain white, strapped, revealing the entire arms and possibly a lot of my neck line. Great, that's just great. "Is this it?"

"That's the undershirt," she quickly fixes, fishing in the bag and producing a hefty-looking darker top. It's almost like a sweater. "It's thick and, again, made from the same cotton the cheap bastards," she pauses, flipping it over to scan the light over the back. "Yes, nothing special either. It's rather heavy, though, clunky almost."

"Will it be a problem for running?" Great, just what I want, clothes that'll suffocate me and make me feel even more alienated in my own body.

"It shouldn't."

She throws me that item too. As she fishes for the pants, I slide the white undershirt on, gulping at how tight and fitting it truly is. For fuck sake, it's like they hate me. The large black sweater goes on next, the cotton feeling rather chunky. As I fumble around it in, I realise that the arms are too big, sleeves covering half of my hand, leaving only my fingers on show. "Is this suppose to be like this?"

Jasa quickly looks up and at it, shrugging it away. "Your measurements would have been perfect. That's the way it's suppose to be designed."

So I'm to wear large clothing? Awesome. I glance down at my stomach, the thick sweater making my stomach and breasts almost in a straight line, without much definition. There's still some - a little curve to them - but that's it. The hem of the sweater sits nicely on my waist, though, so that's a plus. It even wraps around my neck okay-ish, not like a turtleneck sweater, but covering my entire neckline. I feel more alien because of it though. I guarantee that the other girls will mould theirs perfectly. I'm the one that has to feel frumpy in it.

"The pants?"

"Are tight," she finishes. "They feel like leather but they aren't leather. A fake version, you could say. District Eight clearly is lacking at the moment. Here, slide them on."

I take the pants, rolling my eyes and fighting away the bad thoughts that make me want to scream at the top of my lungs. The District Seven female, she has a similar problem according to Hermes, but mine isn't my weight but rather looks in general. I hate how I'm not as pretty as the other girls. I've always been... average. I sit down and slide them on, struggling to fit them around my waist. Of course the sweater fits fine and the pants are awful.

Jasa studies me for a moment, eyes twitching. "You're indoors."

"How do you know that?" I ask, attention piqued.

"Those clothes are not outdoor-friendly. You're inside, a building, perhaps," she pauses and bends down, grabbing long boots. "The boots confirmed it for me."

I stare at the long things, having to be knee-height most definitely. She's right; the clothes are awfully... constricting. "Those boots are hideous."

"They're made for running though," she smirks, handing them to me. I take them with much distaste, however. "They are definitely leather though, not like your fake pants," I slide them on easily over the pants and yep, they reach just underneath my knee. I grab the zip on the side and drag it upwards slowly, getting used to the feeling of them. "The soles are chunky, like combat boots, but the actual leather and zip make them more fashionable."

"It's about fashion?" I crinkle my nose because yes, they hate me, the bastards. Hermes didn't mention it to me, but they knew of my self-consciousness.

"Looks are quarter entertainment straightaway, Laise."

I plod on over to the mirror, staring at the outfit as a whole. It'll do, the clothing is all entirely black. That'd make good camouflage, especially at night. Killing Magnus might be easier that way. Like hell would I trust him; that move about not attacking Lux, that was to cover himself up, but it's too late, the target has already been drawn. Genevieve won't talk to me either, so he can pay for that also.

He won't know what hit him. I'm more dangerous than he thinks.

* * *

**Maxim Bauer, District Nine Male.**

* * *

My eyes follow the clock as the seconds tick by so slowly, one-by-one. My heart races and my head thumps as the seconds become another minute gone, shortening my time even more. The sweater is irritating and making me itch, the boots are large and whilst they fit good, it's something I'm not used to, and the pants are too tight. Everything just seems to seize on my heart and make me lose my breath even more.

I stand up, pushing the bowl of soup away from me. Igor notices me but doesn't really acknowledge, going back to his paperwork. It's okay; he can't help me anymore.

As I look in the mirror, I try to be positive. The sweater hangs over my hands - leaving only my fingers on show - and I quickly taunt myself for being small and lean. It manages to bring a breathy laugh from my throat, but that's only another reminder that I may never laugh again.

I may never breathe again.

No, no, don't say that. Tammy has your back. Nadia and Grey, too. Thinking of dying already is just as bad as thinking you aren't good enough. I got a 5, and that's beyond decent for someone of my age and height. I beat out a lot of older tributes with my meager skills. I might not be perfect, but I can swing a scythe just as well as others can. That'll help me; they might think I'm reckless because of my age - something mother used to always tell me - and avoid me at all costs. I can draw blood easily with that!

"Patience, Maxim. You're becoming jittery."

I turn around to face Igor. "I'm nervous... can you blame me?"

"No, of course," he decides, putting his glasses down on the table. "You just need to clear your mind, otherwise you won't be able to think straight when it comes to rising."

"Maybe it's easier if I don't. M-Maybe if I just act without thinking, be impulsive, I-It might give me a better chance-"

"To get blown up. You can't step off that plate remember." he cuts in.

"I know that," I breathe. "B-But after that, I c-can just act and it might work better for me than thinking things through," he doesn't look convinced. "I'm serious!"

"Just calm down."

Igor is right. I let out a shaky breath and walk back to the bench, sitting down. The soup in front of me wafts into the air, making my stomach churn. I feel to nervous to be able to eat right now. Food actually makes me nauseous and I never thought I'd say that after coming here and being assaulted by the tastes and smells. I don't know how Igor can handle it all the damn time.

I look back at the clock out of boredom and the same, jittery nerves. Three minutes to launch.

I suddenly feel sick again, unable to sit down. I stand up again and begin pacing the room, rolling the tattered sleeves up no matter how many times they continue to fall down. I'm not ready but I have no choice to make myself ready, and that seems impossible currently. I look at the clock again. Two minutes.

I walk over to the plate and study it carefully, a simple round, metallic disk that could blow me up within seconds. I've seen it happen. The boy from District Twelve last year done that, after falling off by complete accident. His body parts showered the room before the actual chaos took over. It was animalistic. Will my year be the same? I hope not. I couldn't... I couldn't bear it.

One minute.

"Time to stand on the plate," Igor commands and I walk over, gingerly standing up and turning to face him. He flashes what could be seen as the most comforting smile possible before stepping back, tucking his glasses back over his silver eyes. "Good luck Maxim, I have faith in you."

I smile meekly as the plate suddenly slides down. The glass is slightly frosted, making Igor's image obscured. My heart rate picks up again and my breaths are short and quick, little bursts of life vanishing into the atmosphere. I start to breathe heavily as Igor continues to look at me with fondness in his eyes. Everything goes quiet and I close my eyes briefly, focusing on this one moment and what is about to come. It's nerve-wracking.

My heart suddenly drops and, without warning, expecting my plate to rise, it begins to descend.

My eyes widen and fear captures my mind, reeling as the image of Igor goes higher and higher, darkness coming up from below. It's almost like water ready to drown someone, and with one final slide - my head craning for the light - I'm pushed down into eternal darkness. Everything is silent. I can only hear my own heartbeat, loud and clear in my ears. My fingers reach out and feel the rough touch of cement, before it vanishes and I stumble forward a little, emerging in what I can imagine as the arena.

I still can't see a thing. It makes everything that much more dangerous.

I hear other breathing in the air, someone even whimpering. Some movement, like boots sliding against the metallic plate.

I'm here.

But where is here?

_"Ladies and gentlemen, let the One Hundred and Fifteenth Annual Hunger Games begin!"_

* * *

******Life Starts Now by Three Days Grace.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Who are your most favourite tributes?**_

_**What do you think the arena will hold/be?**_

_**Who you want to die in the bloodbath and you think will die in the bloodbath?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Yes, the arena is down, not up! I hope everyone is beginning to piece together the many different ideas of Claustrophobia! I take my titles very seriously. Felidae did say she thinks out of the box ;)**

**On that note, though, the darkness isn't everything. An arena in total darkness totally ruins things. So don't expect that forever, okay?**

**For your information, writing Hermes is the most entertaining thing I could ever do. I literally get to break fourth wall and ridicule the tributes I so truly love. He's such an ass though.**

**Okay! A new poll is up, just asking you on tributes you'd like to survive the bloodbath! Obviously favourites might still die - nothing is set in stone - but it's nice to know favourites and whatnot. On that note again, the results for the previous poll are up! Thank you 39 individual votes ;)**

**Quickly before I go. All submitters, I thank you for the tributes. This batch has truly allowed me to regain creativity and my roots. I was so close to ending things with writing, but the tributes and the ideas have kept me going! For the submitters that will lose their tributes in the bloodbath, I'm sorry and nothing personal, I have my reasons for doing it. I hope you don't take offense to it, because each tribute brought the story together.**


	8. Shadow Of The Day

**Shadow Of The Day.**

_Sometimes beginnings aren't so simple. Sometimes goodbye's the only way._

* * *

**Nadia Halifax, District Six Female.**

* * *

The darkness is consuming, suffocating, everything so deathly silent. I thrash my head from side to side, trying to strain my eyes in order to see. It's hopeless. I groan, my eyelids heavy and even more so worse within the dark. Fuck sake, they really do hate us all.

As if hearing my words, a flash of green light illuminates the room for a moment. It's so quick, but my mind is able to remember aspects; cold, concrete flooring, the ceiling and walls almost looking curved rather than straight, a golden Cornucopia spilling in the middle. The darkness is cut again by the light, followed by another shortly, until the flashes are constantly running, like the strobe lights for the interviews.

The green makes things more clearer - with no room for darkness - and the way it produces shadows and streams of darkness is almost alluring. it bounces off the Cornucopia beautifully, and that's when I catch notice of the countdown on top of it.

_50..._

I take a deep breath, using the light to search around me. Everyone is open, so that's a positive. It's on the other wall that catches my attention - a tunnel. It's large, rounded like the whole dome-room we're in right now. There's more of them. I crane my neck around and sure enough, right behind me, a large tunnel is as long as two plates. Huh. So there are... fuck it, there are loads of tunnels. The dull thud behind my eyes remind me that it's been too long... I haven't had a fix since the reaping.

The tribute next to me - the male from District Ten - is strong and solid, and I even notice his clenched fists.

Twelve. Twelve tunnels, one for two of us. I'm to share it with him, but he's going in - I could run.

No. No I can't.

Tambryn, Maxim and Grey; our oddball alliance.

_40...30...20..._

Breathe, Nadia.

The constant green light flashing makes my eyes worse than what the darkness did. Sometimes, I manage to catch a glimpse of a tribute - face long and drawn, elongated by the flashing lights and shadows - before the lights shift. A solid, neon green light paints the numbers though.

_10..._

I arch my feet back, leaning forward to run. I'm fast, something I remember showing off in the private sessions. I catch a glimpse of a silver spear in the mouth, stood upright. That's mine. Looking around briefly, I meet Tambryn's eyes. She nods, eyes sharp. Grey and Maxim need to stay back - that was part of the plan; me and Tambryn collect things, meet them and then run. I look again at harder, focusing on her face when it disappears into the shadows for a moment. I follow her stare to a tunnel located on the opposite wall. I nod in response, flexing my wiry fingers.

_0..._

As if just for suspense, the lights become a solid, bright green in tune with the gong. I can see perfectly now and I leap from my plate, hitting the ground hard and sprinting fast forward. There's chaos and everyone follows, running swiftly, eyes hardened and faces drawn. As I get closer, a hand grabs my shoulder and launches me downwards. I land on my back, wind knocked out me. Fuck. My attacker - the boy from District Ten - is going forward.

I climb up, still running. Tambryn reaches the Cornucopia first; her hands catch a kaiser blade and she swings wildly at the Career girl from Two who is right behind. She ducks, dodging to the side.

I'm so mesmerized that I don't see the girl from District One running at me with her whip. She flicks her wrist - the light making her hair a lime colour - and the whip snaps forward. I manage to duck to the side, leather strap aiming over my head; the sound cuts the air and makes my stomach churn. All my fear has been pushed for this one person and she's on me, booted foot flying into my ribs. I cry, landing on my side and trying to roll out the way of her stamp.

There's a squeal and I squeeze my eyes shut, ready to die. Instead, I look at Tambryn flying forward, her face collected. She slices the kaiser blade across, scaring the Career girl back. As she runs away, jaw clenched, Tambryn heaves me up.

"We need to find Grey and Maxim!" she shouts.

I nod hurriedly, looking around the broken room. It's underground, like tunnels. I see the female from District Ten sprinting into the tunnel nearby, a backpack over her shoulder and hand clutching onto a quarterstaff. Where are they? I hear a wail, a wail that makes my blood run cold. I turn around, watching Grey being backed up against the wall. He's crying, red-faced, the boy from District Five inching him there with a knife in his hand.

"Grey!" I scream, running before I can think things through. I haven't got a weapon, but I know Tambryn will be right behind me hopefully.

But as I near, a fist comes flying out of nowhere, landing straight on my nose. I hear a crack - probably my nose - before stars are peppering my vision and making things seem... heavy. Tambryn fights away the attacker, but whoever it is, he's fighting back, occupying her. I feel weak, dizzy, like my whole body has been flipped upside down. I'm useless as the boy closes in on Grey, whipping the knife across his throat sloppily. Grey slumps to the floor, blood pouring from his throat. I begin to crawl over, trying to ignore the pain in my head and the cold sensation on my face. Tears begin to blur my eyes even more, Grey's weakened body looking at me, eyes so hopeful. He gasps before he stills.

I stop, weak and tired, pain taking over and blacking out my eyes.

* * *

**Jayden Perona, District Twelve Male.**

* * *

I jump back, hearing the whip of an arrow being arched. I look around wildly, trying to find him before he lands me. The pain in my shoulder is a numbing reminder that he almost caught me once, and I would be dead if I didn't throw myself against the golden skin so hard. I catch the short guy standing not far from me, eyes locked. My eyes grow wide as the arrow comes zooming forward. I throw myself to the side and begin to run, hearing the arrow being notched again, but further back.

With a backpack over my shoulder and a knife in my hand, I begin to search for Lux and Bliss. I manage to find Lux last second, cowering near his plate. I run forward, avoiding the sword fight between the female from District Two and the District Eight female. Lux looks so happy when I get near, despite our awkwardness.

"Jayden!" he cheers. "I-I can't find Bliss!"

"Get moving!" I reply more harshly than intended.

Lux nods hurriedly and slides around the plate, running forward. I chase after him, still trying to find the blonde girl that brought this whole alliance together.

The arrow comes out of nowhere again, just whizzing past his ear. Seriously! What is his problem with me!

Another arrow comes shortly after and I swing the backpack around behind my head, hearing it land and squish something inside. My heart is literally hammering, eyes blinking fast and hard. I turn around as the little monster comes running over, fumbling for another arrow. He's a crack shot, that score proved that. I start running towards him instead. It's a dumb move, but he shoots from afar... he must be weak up close. He doesn't see me until I'm on top of him, batting my hand to knock the bow from his own hands before sending my other hand into his face. He flies to the side, blonde-turned-lime hair fleeing into his eyes.

I take the time to start running again, realising that Lux has disappeared. Damn! The frustration is starting to become more than the fear. I'm not even keen on this alliance after Bliss has pushed the moves on too much. Now they've decided to hide from me.

I whip my head back and forth, watching the little girl from District Eleven take a slap to the face from the District Twelve girl. Where is she?

I run for the Cornucopia instead, hoping to meet her there since that was the original plan that she decided to not do.

Then I see it. Bliss' blonde hair dyed a sickly green. My lips part, ready to scream out her name when I see something that makes my heart drop. Bliss seems to stalk the boy from District Seven, taunting his name maybe. He's ready to cry, but she simply flashes the large, curved knife in her hand before lunging forward and driving it through his heart.

But anyone can kill in the Hunger Games. I shouldn't think of her as any differently, should I?

That's when she rips the knife out, smiling so... wickedly, that the action makes the hairs on my neck stand up. No morals or guilt. His body crumples to the floor and she looks almost proud of herself.

I'm running before I can think of anything. My mind is spinning and the pounding feet against the floor only makes it worse. She done it so heartlessly; I have no problem with her killing, but she looked so... so... at home with it, I can only imagine how quick she might turn on me and-

I stop. Lux! I whip my head around, trying to find the boy that's stuck to her like a puppy on a leash. He's gone. Damn it Lux! My mind is splitting in two, one half wanting to find him and the other only thinking of myself. The better half beats me; I spin around and continue to run for the nearest tunnel, lungs burning from the constant back and forth. She could have turned on me. Of course she would. I wouldn't... I wouldn't have killed her so spitefully. I wouldn't have enjoyed it.

The tunnel is rounded like the room, dark but illuminated by the odd, white light that showers areas but provides enough shadows to hide in. I keep running, the sound of fighting ceasing only to be replaced with what I believe is dripping water. I breathe hard, noting how my lungs feel hot like white fire. I gulp hard, desperate for saliva to hydrate me. As I slow down, hitting a surprising cross section, I finally realise where I am.

Sewers.

I remember, briefly, in a history class. We were learning about the sewer system that ran underneath the Capitol, and stretched into the districts. Many years ago, they were open, and people often smuggled themselves across the border to other districts. Power grew tight though when the Hunger Games came into rule, and the sections were sealed off with metal barriers, unbreakable. It's only then do I notice the steady flow of water beneath my feet, splashes and droplets up my knee-high boots. So that's what they were for. Well, dry socks are a bonus I suppose. I look at the cross section, tunnels spilling in all four directions now. I hear a shout, pounding feet and another shout. I don't know who, but my heart is racing before I can think straight. I turn left and continue to run, legs weak and tired but the spirit in me as fired up as possible.

I don't know how I'll survive on my own - I never thought this through as clearly as I could've - but it's what I have to do. If Wisteria can do it, so can I.

I keep running, dipping into showers of light and then the shadows. Bliss' face flashes across my mind and I squeeze my eyes, trying to rid myself of the grin that she wore, so happy and angelic.

She hid herself so well. Lux won't know what hit him and I feel guilty for running... but I can't think like that. Only one winner after all.

Better now than later, I suppose. I roll my shoulders and breathe hard. Just got to get over it, I guess.

* * *

**Genevieve Arlen, District Four Female.**

* * *

Chaos. It makes my mind reel but I steel myself and focus hard, gripping onto the sword tight. No-one has dared take the Careers on properly; each tribute that fought us simply did because we started on them first. I back myself more against the mouth of the Cornucopia, Fedora to my right. The bruise on his face is a sickly yellow and green, highlighted by the light that really annoys me, come to think of it. He carefully and quickly notches an arrow into the bow and releases, sending it into a crowd of tributes like wildfire. It hits no-one, but that doesn't stop him aiming the next one up.

Dione is near the target he aims. For a brief moment, the grip on my sword grows harder than I thought possible - Fedora possibly aiming at her - but it loosens when he swings carelessly to the left and shots again, the metal arrowhead making a ping sound against the wall.

"Missed," he speaks clearly, no emotion. "I better work harder," is he talking to himself? "What are you planning on doing?"

"Staying here," I reply, hoping he didn't hear the waver in my voice. I cough. "I was told by Magnus to protect the supplies."

He just nods, stretching the distance between us as he shoots recklessly again. Here I was thinking that he was cold and calculated, but really, he's shooting without aim. Maybe he's not aiming to kill? I watch with curious eyes as he shoots an arrow towards the little boy from District Eleven, running around like a headless animal. He hears the noise and quickly throws himself backwards... straight into Laise and her sword. She eyes him before and slashing wildly, the fine steel cutting through the dark fabric.

He has no chance. My heart drops for a moment, the idea that the kid really has no clue. I've witnessed death before but... this feels different. Before I cried, my heart and world was shattered, and now... I actually feel guilty.

Fedora's arrow snaps me back into reality. The boy is gone and Laise looks over, a half-smile framing her face. I can't respond; not after what happened. I just don't trust her that much anymore, not that I did much in the first place, but that's neither here nor there.

For a brief moment, as she runs away, I want to join her. No tribute dares comes towards me and anyone who gets close, Fedora shoots away like a predator trying to steal flock or something. I literally don't have to worry. Of course, Hermes could be right and the scene unfolding radiates his biting remarks. I'm an extra in this alliance without a district partner. Laise, Dione and Magnus are out fighting, whilst Fedora can protect the loot. I'm not technically needed. Bitterness floods my mouth and I try to gulp down, as if swallowing would reduce the ideas in my mind.

Half the tributes are gone anyway. I've seen a few escape into the tunnels.

Magnus comes running over, face red and panting. "T-They're escaping."

"I'm not surprised," I say more weakly than I anticipated, the confliction in my mind blurring everything. "I can help, leave Fedora here to fight."

Magnus decides on this for a second. "Nah, Genevieve, I asked you to protect the supplies. Fedora!" Fedora turns around. "Come on, we need to pick them off now."

Fedora nods without even so much as a smirk, before running off with Magnus. I feel hatred boiling in my veins.

"Ahhhhh!"

I spin around urgently, avoiding the cut of a knife. The wild eyes of the District Five male meet mine, dark and lost. He didn't even sound human, he sounded like a creature of the dark. He slashes out again, causing me to hop back and forth. I bite gently on my bottom lip as he draws me towards the supplies more and more. A certain spear catches my eyes, but then I hear other footsteps heading my way. I turn, realising that I'm being ganged up against now that the barrier - Fedora, other words - has disappeared. The girl from District Twelve carelessly slaps out, but I duck, hearing her hand meet the silver of the blade. She cries and I send my fist flying into the boy's ankle, hard enough to knock it away and cause him to fall over.

There's a sickening squelch and I spin on the concrete flooring, ignoring the loose bumps that cut and scrape my hand, before sending the fist into the girl's ankle. She stumbles without falling over, her other leg flying out and landing in my throat. The pain engulfs me like wild flames, the feeling like my chest closing up taking over. I gasp and scramble my fingers at my throat, rubbing over the tender area. I see the girl run away through teary eyes, two backpacks stolen. Greedy much.

I breathe hard and force myself up onto my knees and then my feet. As I turn, I smell the distinct smell of blood before I taste it in my mouth. The Five boy is impaled through the spear, metal carving through the soft flesh in his throat. The sight makes me rub my throat again, half out of pain and half out of pity. He doesn't move, dead instantly. My first kill. I don't know how to feel since I didn't specifically shove the spear through him, I just made him fall onto it.

"Genevieve!" Laise's voice comes across. I turn to her, the sight of her face much more hollow with the light. "Are you okay?" she sounds worried, like she actually cares. "Your throat."

I touch it again, more consciously this time, feeling the tenderness once more. "I-I'm fine." I choke.

"I'll stay here. You could do with some help, stupid Magnus leaving you alone."

Laise confuses me. She stands next to me, sword raised. With two Careers, the other tributes begin to avoid us again, cause apparently, I'm an easy target and one that could be killed easily. I glance to Laise and remind myself of how quickly she turned against Lux despite saying she would leave him alone. It could've been me easily. That's when I hear another scream, this time much more younger and timid. When I look to the side, seeing Magnus leaning over the boy from District Eleven, I'm not surprised. Another death to witness. Surprisingly, I'm getting used to it.

I'll have to learn and adapt I guess. Magnus nears closer and Laise continues to watch. I guess this is what it's like to truly be a Career, void of emotions.

Can I class myself as a Career then?

* * *

**Magnus Croft, District Two Male.**

* * *

The boy whimpers and cries, but I have to do it. As the leader, I'm expected to make a kill, no matter who. If the other Careers kill and I don't, taking the leadership role was beyond pointless. He slides back on his back, using his hands and without a weapon. I don't remember him being this young, except, many children look younger when they're about to die.

"Sorry. Nothing personal," I say because it truly isn't. Not all Careers look to kill mercilessly. I lift the spear - a poor choice in weapon but my first grab - before plunging it into his chest. He gasps, blood building in his mouth before dribbling down his chin. Within seconds, his eyes roll back and his body stops fighting the inevitable. "Sorry."

I spin around, realising that I forced the kid back into the corner. I feel a moment of regret before it's swamped by the fire and need to prove myself. For some reason, I look over at Laise and Genevieve, both looking at me from the corner of the eye but not properly. Good. That'll cement my leadership skills enough. Fedora is around here somewhere and I turn to try and find him, watching him slinging arrows into the tunnels. Is his arrows unlimited or something? Then I realise that he has four satchels over his shoulders, each holding a bounty of arrows. He stole all the arrows from every other bow... how kind of him.

I start to jog over towards him, the pain in my chest from all movement making me uncomfortable. He spins around last minute, bow poised and arrow facing my temple, despite the height difference.

"Sorry. You shouldn't sneak up on a hunter because we shoot at the slightest of sounds."

"Doesn't sound like a hunter because that wastes arrows if you miss."

He smirks for the first time ever, something he's limited himself in front of us. I've caught it on other time, on the stage for the interview. "I never miss."

"You aren't exactly aiming to kill though since tributes are running," I say, pausing as I realise the answer clear on his face. "Who did you hit?" there's no reply so I cough. "Who?"

"The girl from District Seven. Just an arrow into the shoulder. She'll bleed and we'll be able to track her through the tunnels, taking us to her and her ally," he pauses for a moment, both turning as the boy from District Ten and his ally, District Five, dash into an opposite tunnel. "The harder ones can go. They'll be more fun to track and maim later on."

I nod curtly, realising that Fedora is truly dangerous. I had always expected him to be maybe unstable up there between his ears, but turns out, he's perfectly sane and that makes it worse. He thinks things through and is clear; that's a deadly combination for the people he might turn against. He gives me a nod that hints a million things and I run out, straight into the pair from District Eight trying to escape. The boy carelessly throws a punch that I dodge with ease, sending my fist into his stomach. He gags and bends over, leaving me to hit him in the back of the neck, sending him to the floor. The girl gasps but attempts to lash out, swinging her backpack. Silly mistake. I catch it with ease and yank forward, using my strength against her. She's pulled forward, falling over her ally and landing on the floor. She makes an attempt to crawl away but I kick her in the ribs.

The boy gets up and punches again - which I dodge again, feeling his knuckles brush against my stomach - before hitting out. He dodges, surprisingly, a knee meeting my stomach and making me feel slightly sick. The snap of leather slicing air catches my ears and the boy in front of me screams, tears brimming at his eyes as he arches forward. I feel the need to punch him in the stomach, hearing Dione running over.

She cracks the whip against the floor and twirls, spinning it around and sending it onto his back once more. Another scream and he buckles to the floor in agony next to the partner who still seems to be down there, cradling her side.

"You killed anyone?" she says emotionless, and I look up, knowing that Dione has always been harsh, but it's really magnified in here and under the light, her eyes are swimming in black.

"Him," I jerk my head in his direction, unable to look. "You want one of these and I'll have the other?" she doesn't answer quick enough and the boy moves, another kick keeping him quiet. "Better pick quick Dione."

She casually reels in her whip and bends over the girl's back. With care, she wraps the whip around both fists - a line of leather in the middle - before lifting the girl's head up and wrapping the line of leather across her throat. She tugs and the girl reacts, brought back to life with the sudden thought of death. The boy screams, anguished, but another kick sends him spilling over. He tries to roll away but I stomp forward, ignoring the whimper of the female as I kick him again.

I turn briefly to see the girl crying, purple in the face, fingers scratching her neck and the leather, punching Dione in the leg and the arms and the hands, all in vain. Her district partner seems shocked, eyes hurt.

"It was nothing personal." I shrug, hearing him mumble something. "What was that?"

"To me it was..." he whispers.

I'm shocked by the words but then he launches himself up pretty quickly, charging into me head first. The act is stupid but then his knee connects to my groin and I see stars, buckling over so easily. He doesn't have much time but when I hear the thud of someone hitting the ground, and the drag of the whip, I know his partner is dead. Behind me, Dione must turn, because the boy looks broken for a moment before he starts running in the opposite direction. I force myself to turn around, the burn down below so painful. The girl has a clear, yellow-ish line across her porcelain neck, strangled by the Career with a whip that we all thought was stupid.

"And one for me," she says casually. She rolls the whip up into her fist and stares straight at me, almost a smirk on her lips. "Guess it hurts that much to be a boy then," I nod weakly. "Sucks."

The conversation is so forced in a situation like this. "G-Go."

Dione does as she's told, more arrows showering in the distance. I cradle myself for a moment, heat pricking at my eyes. I feel so weak. Dione has seen me like this now, it'll only be a matter of time before the others catch on too.

* * *

**Brigan Knoll, District Three Male**

* * *

The splash of the water as I run is soothing, to say the least, but also a constant reminder that I'm running. With step makes more noise and as I fade in and out of the darkness, I just feel more and more ashamed. They both died. First Alder, and then Adra. I was lucky - the only real injury being a lash from that witch with a whip - but Alder... I don't who killed him, but I saw his body before I could think things through. Our supposed leader was dead. I told Adra to follow... somehow I lost him.

I keep running, panting hard as my lips crack up. The backpack over my shoulder is light, full of useless or useful metal and scraps. I laugh weakly as I slow down, flipping it around and opening it up. Yup. Metals, all bright and silver underneath the white light, with a few more rusted and dull. I rattle it experimentally before zipping it up, trying to contain myself. I'm happy for finding it out of all the other backpacks, managing to sneak it away as the girl from District Four was overloaded. I'm also sad that I didn't find Adra soon enough. I don't know who killed him either.

I swallow hard and close my eyes, listening to the fading echoes of voices, footsteps and dripping water. Where to go now? I have no-one to guide me. It's my own decision. I don't know how to feel about that either... it's weird to know that every decision you make on your own could be your last.

Slinging the backpack onto my shoulder, I continue to walk, making sure that my ears are alert to everything around me. I breathe heavily and stare ahead, concentrating on moving forward. When the corner comes up, I turn, my mind just calculating everything. It's going to be a maze of sewers, with spaced out lighting, just so people can hide and sneak up on people. I tug the sleeves down over my hands, teeth slightly chattering from the cold.

That's when I see the bars.

I frown, going closer. I pull my hands out of the sweater and reach out, letting my fingers brush over the cold metal. It even hurts to touch a little. It makes me think of being on my own again. I grip onto it harder, looking up and expecting but yeah, it's connected the entire tunnel closed, from ceiling to floor and even the rounded walls. No way getting through; the light makes it look like that, though.

"Brigan!"

I jump, my heart skipping a beat. A little scream escapes my throat as I turn around, my cheeks hot from embarrassment. "B-Bliss?"

Bliss stands there underneath, hair strewn all over her head. I remember it was in a nice ponytail, but not anymore. Behind her is the fallen Career, eyes wide and slightly fearful. I wonder why he's scared so much? Bliss stands there casually, a knife gripped in her hand. My heart skips a beat again. Did she kill or is she planning on killing? Me and Bliss were never that close, but surely...

"I'm so glad I found you," she starts, voice sweet. "I... I saw your allies. I'm so sorry, Brigan, I know it must've been awful," I nod, the lump in my throat suddenly suffocating me. "So I came to find you."

It suddenly hits me. "Where's your other ally?"

"Oh," her face suddenly drops, eyes casted downwards. "H-He must've got overwhelmed and ran. I don't blame him, it was chaos in there."

I nod again, speechless. The Four male doesn't say anything though, skeptical behind her.

Bliss suddenly seems to notice him and gasps. "Oh Lux, you remember my district partner Brigan, right?" he nods. "Good, then you won't mind if he joins us. He doesn't have anyone else and I can't bear to think of him as on his own."

I guess it would be better to be with someone I knew then on my own. I don't really want to find out everything without someone to help... Alder and Adra were there for me on that and now they're not. My mood deflates, the icy claws suddenly telling me to say no. The feeling of pushing her away overwhelmes me, bitter and resenting the fact that I lost everyone and have to take help from someone else. Am I seen as that helpless? My score didn't say that; my score said that I could do it. Yet, looking at Bliss and her ally Lux, I remember what it's like to have people who you can talk to, lean on, people who help carry you when you want to fall.

"Well?" Bliss asks, before craning her head around Lux, instantly making him paranoid. "I don't think we should just be hanging around in case someone comes. Sometimes you can't hear them," yeah, well, I didn't hear either of you two. "What'd you say?"

"Okay," my voice speaks before my head can think things through. "I-I suppose it's better than being on my own."

"It obviously will be!" she chirps, far too perky in the arena. My eyes glance back down to the knife, stained crimson underneath the white flare. My heart freezes; did she kill her ally? I gulp again, realising that I'm backing myself up against the bars almost involuntarily. The bitter coldness breaks through the thick sweater, chilling my bones. "Come on Brigan, we're friends," then she notices me staring at the knife and hides it behind her back. "Oh, one of those Careers got a little close and I cut them."

I'll know either way later. The seals - wherever they'll be - will tell me whether she killed her ally or not. I'll also see Alder and Adra again... no, I can do this. "Yeah, l-let's go."

Bliss extends her hand, a sugary sweet smile on her face. I carefully take it, completely aware the whole time that the other hand contains a knife that could or could not have killed her ally. Is that why Lux is so frightened? Did she kill him, and promise Lux safety? Will she do the same to me? She laces her fingers into mine, pulling me to her side and Lux on the other.

"We're going to be okay," she sounds sure of herself. "We'll be perfectly fine. We're like a family now."

* * *

**Harlow Bellamy, District Eleven Female.**

* * *

I duck out of instinct, the memory of the arrow just scraping over my hair. Savannah whimpers and I slow down, my heart racing. The echo of the tunnel makes everything sound worse though, as if my heart is ready to jump out of my chest. I turn around, looking at Savannah's weakened face. She holds her shoulder limply, tears streaming her face from the obvious pain.

"I-I'm sorry," I breathe out. The arrow was aiming for me, but I ducked. It slid over my head and straight into Savannah's shoulder. I don't how it was possible... but now she's injured. "D-Does it hurt?"

Such a stupid question. Savannah nods, teeth clamped shut and eyelids squeezed shut for a moment. She doesn't say anything; she doesn't have to either. I feel the need to pray for her.

Savannah doesn't know about my religion. I can't tell her either. Darren made me promise to keep it a secret, that if anyone found out, they'd only ridicule me and tell me that holding belief in someone is as stupid as believing Panem might change one day. I still believe it can; not all of the Capitol is corrupt. Savannah stares at me hard through her slatted eyes. It catches me off-guard, like I'm caught in suspecting headlights.

"W-Where should we go? We haven't got any supplies," I suddenly realising, staring at our empty arms. We just ran like fleeing animals. "Should we go back?"

Savannah needs to guide me. I feel safer that way. She looks broken already. "Y-Y-Yeah."

I gulp and look around, trying to figure out the path we took. We ran and dipped around corner after corner, not bothering to take a check on where we were going. I blink back the coming tears and try to think harder, before turning around. "We need to find another way. They could be hunting us."

The thought hurts a lot more than I let on. Savannah just mumbles something I take as an agreement, before we start walking, me in charge. Knowing Savannah isn't looking, I close my eyes and look for guidance. I turn the next corner, just because it feels the right way. Each step is careful and quiet, trying our hardest not to make splashes, though Savannah's body is much heavier due to the blood leaking from her wound, making her moves sluggish. We hit a cross-section, two ways to go. I lean towards the right, but deep down, I hear a loud crash, like metal hitting cement. It catches me off-guard and I hiccup from fright. It's a sign. We turn left instead.

"H-H-Har-"

Her words are cut off by the noise of splashing, like many feet hitting the water. I turn around hastily, using a shaky hand to remove strands of hair from my eyes. Savannah's face has drained of all colour. The echoes bounce from the wall and it's almost like a group... Careers. I start running before my mind can process the fact that the movement echoes, everything much more louder. Savannah is behind me and I try to count her steps in my mind, just to make sure she's behind me, but my mind is literally swimming in terror. I turn the next corner hastily, clipping my shoulder against the cement and screaming out in pain, Savannah almost slamming into my back.

"We need to run Harlow!" she cries out loud, the adrenaline making her temporarily forget about the wound. I hold my breath; they're still coming. "Come on Harlow!"

She slips a shaky hand into mine and laces our fingers together. I nod and we start running again, heavy boots causing the water to call out where we are heading. It's so fast and confusing, we zip down every other tunnel, desperate to out run them. We turn another corner, a shadowy figure emerging from the shadows and into the pure light. We come to a stop, our hearts racing as it turns out to be the boy from District Two, eyes cutting through the air. We spin around and continue running, hearing his footsteps after us.

I don't want to die. God, please don't let me die.

Another shadowy figure emerges, revealing to be the female from District Two. They're everywhere!

I let out a whimper and swing around, dragging Savannah with me and ignoring her cry of pain. Terrified tears slip down my face and I continue to run, dragging Savannah whose movements are becoming more and more heavy. I let out another whimper as the boy from District One slides out from a corner, letting rip an arrow. I scream, letting Savannah go and throwing myself against one side of the wall, pushing her against the other. The arrow slides between us and as I blink away tears, I notice he doesn't move, just notching another arrow. I quickly grab onto Savannah's hand and yank her back, my mind reeling as I realise that the Careers are splitting up, popping up everywhere. We run, Savannah crying and me trying to hold myself together, trying to think about the positivity and not the fear.

There's light at the end of the tunnel. My eyes widen and I push my feet harder, the numbing pain in my arm and knees.

The light turns out to be green; like the bloodbath. I freeze, my heart dropping down into my stomach. Savannah collapses to her knees, clutching onto her wounded shoulder and crying weakly.

"W-W-We n-need to h-hide Savannah," I whimper, leaning down and trying to tug her with my arm. "P-Pl-"

The pain rips across my back. I scream, throat feeling bare and ripped. I fall on the ground, clamping my teeth shut. I hear the roll of leather, forcing myself to turn over. The girl from District One stands there emotionless, next to her being the girl from District Four. My mind reels as the other three Careers come out of the tunnel, all together. They just stare without saying anything. I look over my shoulder; I could run... but what about Savannah?

I start to crawl, digging my nails into the cement, ignoring the burning sensation. The Careers just look, all stood in a line, Savannah at their feet. Without a second though, the boy from District One poises the arrow over Savannah's skull. She looks up briefly, watery eyes staring out from the blonde locks. Her lips move and make a single word: please.

He lets the arrow go. There's a sickening crunch and I scream, closing my eyes but not my ears, hearing Savannah hit the floor. I force myself onto my feet and start running as fast as hard as possible, but no-one chases me. Tears wet my cheeks and I run my hands over them hard, the image of Savannah's pleading eyes boring into my mind. I run deeper and deeper into the tunnel. Why did she die? Why didn't God spare her?

Where is he?

* * *

******Shadow Of The Day by Linkin Park.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Grey Slate, District Six.**

******Alder Hawthorne, District Seven.**

******Hamlet Althen, District Five.**

******Adra Church, District Eleven.**

******Helene Fortress, District Eight.**

******Savannah DeBeaux, District Seven.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Bowler, nb, infinity, NinjaMadness, clover and Ace, it was nothing personal. These characters were the more likely, and the less characters I could have developed anymore. To be honest, I loved them like I love all my tributes, but I couldn't think of where to take them from here. I do apologise.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Surprised at any of the deaths?**_

_**Which death, in particular, stood out to you?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**SEWERS. Yes. Original, I know. It seemed a good place to incorporate everything I have in mind.**

**So, Claustrophobia. By now, you should notice some things; the clothes are conflicting, with tight pants and a thick, heavy jumper, both to bring about the feeling of suffocation. I also read that flashing lights is something that causes the mind to jitter, so to speak, which can also produce a type of claustrophobia. It's a word that can be defined in so many ways.**

**Sorry for the bloodbath. I've never been that great at them... I like psychological development too much and it conflicts, you know?**

**On that note, all tribute that were not mentioned escaped the bloodbath either perfectly okay, with or without supplies, or possibly injured. If they weren't mentioned intensely in a POV - or skimmed over as being witnessed - then yes, they are okay, you'll hear from them in coming chapters.**

**Yeah. Let's see what happens next!**

**Oh! Results of the previous poll are up - the one about favourite tributes. The bloodbath one is after!**


	9. It's Time

**It's Time.**

_The path to heaven runs through miles of clouded hell._

* * *

**Lux Solaris, District Four Male.**

* * *

_Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom._

Six dead. The cannons don't even faze us as we stare at the iron bars.

"Another dead end," Bliss groans. I glance at the iron bars once more, similar to when we found Brigan. "Guess we go back then," she turns around, but I'm stuck, looking at the metal grid almost longingly. "Lux? Aren't you coming?"

"Yeah," I cave. "I'm just wondering what's in the darkness behind them."

"You'll probably regret that answer."

I nod and turn, following our leader and Brigan, her hand still laced into his. She hasn't let go, and I'm sure Brigan is capable of looking after himself. Yet she has this motherly instinct over him, the need to protect him, and I can't help but wonder if she would have done the same to me? She didn't even take Jayden leaving as harsh as I thought. We were trying to find her, I told her that, but she put it down to Jayden being a traitor and that she was glad he left. We walk in silence, Bliss saying some things quietly to Brigan and my ears burn, possible jealousy.

The anthem catches us off-guard.

My heart leaps from my chest and I look around, eyebrows furrowed. Bliss and Brigan stop, but looking also. Where can they show the faces? The shadows - the gaps between the spaced out lighting - suddenly illuminates the entire tunnel, blinding light. The anthem continues to blare and then it stops, the seal on the ceiling. I crane my neck upwards as the first face proves to be the District Five male, Hamlet Althen. The Careers survived - Genevieve survived. I'm surprisingly happy about that.

The boy from District Six, Grey Slate, is next, innocence clear. The boy from District Seven, Alder Hawthorne, and I quickly glance at Brigan, noticing the way he curls into himself, but Bliss is there, soothing hand on his back. District Seven is out as I see the female, Savannah DeBeaux. Her interview was her stand out moment to us all. Then, it's the female from District Eight, Helene Fortress, stony faced. I sigh. One more and I know who; Brigan's remaining ally, the boy from District Eleven Adra Church, flashes and disappears once more, tunnel growing dark once more as the lights go back to being the only source.

Six tribute dead. It's about average; most years, the bloodbaths are often drawn out and long, a greater source of entertainment when there's more tributes alive after.

I hear a distorted whimper and look at Brigan, his eyes wide and glassy. Bliss scoops him into a hug and it only reminds me that now, I'm left out. They have each other, district partners, and I'm the tag along. It was easier with Jayden around. My mind briefly skips over Genevieve - she might be feeling the same? - before I remember that she's with the Careers, the murderers, the enemies.

"Lux?" I snap out of it all and look at Bliss. "Do you think you could walk on ahead and try and find a suitable tunnel?"

"Sure." I say as warm as I can, shouldering past a cuddled-up Brigan. I don't hate him. I like him, in fact, I just feel more out of place than I did before having allies. Even me and Jayden could have shared an awkward conversation and that would've made me comfortable. Now I'm... lost.

The tunnel doesn't end, I soon find out. Whatever tunnel we're in, it's larger than the others we've been down. I step out from the shadows and look at the cement wall. It's darker, not so grey but rather black-ish. My eyebrows furrow again. If it is sewers - from the basic design - then I hope the water beneath us isn't polluted. It could cause infections and I haven't got the right medicine to treat anything. Then again, I have no wounds. I was lucky, come to think of it, despite Jayden's abandonment and not finding Bliss until last minute. I look ahead. The lights are weird; they make it like an optical illusion, like the tunnel never ends when you could easily pass another tunnel without a second thought.

Then you have those bars... what are they for? To help the Careers corner us? Or is something more sinister at hand?

The sound of moving water makes my heart freeze. I strain my eyes to see in the distance - staring at the watery ground and then above - but nothing comes. Water down here is appropriate, just... nothing in the Hunger Games is ever what they seem. Everything is either to confuse you, scare you, or kill you. I start running back before I know it. Bliss is still cuddling Brigan, but he's not upset no more, just hugging her awkwardly.

"Found something?" she asks, but my breathing is hard and she quickly clicks onto it. "What is it?"

"I... I don't know. B-But we have to get out of here now!"

Brigan throws himself from Bliss' arms, grabs his backpack whilst Bliss grabs ours, and we start to run the way we came. The sound of the moving water is getting louder, almost rushing hastily. My mind clicks in. We learned about this - it's connected to the sea back in District Four. I should've guessed by the darker walls and how long is was...

Storm drain.

* * *

**Darek Jacquard, District Eight Male.**

* * *

I turn the corner fast, the noise almost drowning everything else out. I can't hear my footsteps or the water splashing, but I can hear my heart in my ears. Bitter tears lean on my eyelids, making them heavy, reminding me that I lost Helene because I couldn't do anything else. But I can't stop. I keep my cudgel locked in my hands and the backpack over my shoulder, powering through the light and the dark. The noise is becoming louder.

There's a rush of wind that whips my hair and I'm almost ready to scream, throwing myself around a corner and onto the floor. I land in the water, nose brushing the bottom, before rolling myself over. Water laps over the top of my boots, coming up and kissing my chin. Whatever it was, it must have been a decent amount away. I push myself upwards, clothes heavier because of the water. Whatever happened though, it just made a ripple effect on the water. A larger gush of water perhaps? I can't think straight. I shake my hair much like the dog the neighbors had, running a shaky hand through it. I can't always be on-guard whilst I'm on my own. It's impossible. Luckily, to my amazement, the sweater must be slightly waterproof because with a shake, it's not as heavy as I imagined, though the neckline does strangle a little.

I hear footsteps. I turn around, backing myself up into the shadows until my back is against the curved wall. I try to slow my breathing but it's hard. I remember this one time, back at school, when Jacob Taylor had dared me to hold my breath. It was a challenge and I couldn't refused; I barely lasted a minute until I was ready to pop. Him and Katie, this just laughed and laughed. I never thought that it'd be practice for something like this. I feel melancholy; I might never see them again.

The footsteps become louder and it's clear they're walking down this tunnel. Maybe they ran from the attack of water?

It's one person, I quickly deduce. I gulp and place a hand over my heart, a poor attempt to stop it beating so hard.

Their boot catches mine and I freak out, throwing myself forward. They grunt - definitely a boy - and we slam into the other wall. A flying fist clips my chin and I stagger back, clutching onto their shoulders and, surprisingly, managing to haul them into the light. They land on the watery floor on their back, a knife flying from their hand and hitting the water with a plop.

"Dude!" he complains. "Not cool!"

I widen my eyes at the boy from District Twelve. He had allies... where are they? I look at him and he looks at me, neither making a motion. I have a weapon and he doesn't. I think he knows that. He pushes himself onto his knees and I raise the cudgel without fear, though my shaking hand says otherwise. He doesn't seem to notice though. He looks kind... he reminds me of Jacob, from looks that is.

"I-I won't kill you," I stammer, watching him bring himself to his feet almost casually. "I-If you walk away now, I-I won't do anything."

The water dripping around us only reminds me of the awkward scene. He just looks at me without fear, as if he can't believe I'd do anything. We evened our scores, if I remember, so that goes to show I'm just as good as him. What did he even do? I can't remember what he used during training. He seemed... nope. I don't remember anything about him besides his district and his looks, both pretty hard to skip over.

"Dude, just... just calm down. I didn't mean to... find you?"

"I wasn't hiding," I suddenly grow defensive, feeling weak. "I was waiting, like an animal," he doesn't believe me, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. "I'm serious."

"I'm sure you are," he raises his hands in mock-defense. "I don't want trouble."

His tone is more serious now, like something grave has happened to him. "Neither do I." I respond.

"Then what are we doing?" he holds his hands up completely now, above his head, just to prove a point. "I'm Jayden."

"Darek," I nod curtly, lowering my cudgel. "You... you can go... if, if you want."

He carefully holds his decision. Did I just offer an alliance without using the words? I guess missing Helene has hit me a lot harder and more rooted than I expected. I gulp hard, time against us, fingers tapping against the metal handle. He doesn't do everything but his eyes skirt across me a few times.

"I'll stay," he decides and I breathe a sigh of relief I never thought I was even holding onto. "Guess an alliance wouldn't be bad. I'm dying of thirst, and I don't trust the water, if you get what I mean."

I flip the backpack over and unzip, bringing out the full canister of water. I have no idea if I'll ever get to fill it up or not. I toss it across the gap and Jayden catches it, taking a long swig.

"Thanks man."

I nod again, catching the canister like him. He steps closer and extends his hand out. That's something me and Helene never done; our alliance was just cemented, I guess, stemming from district partners. I could only trust her. I don't know if I can trust Jayden yet, but then again, time will tell. I take his hand as confidently as I can, shaking it, cementing that last joint between us. Will we become friends? Can you ever become friends in here? I was as close to Helene as I could, but we had District Eight behind us, an unknown, unspoken code that meant being together reminded us of home.

"I'm sorry for tackling you to the ground." I apologise.

"Shows strength. It's nice," he pauses and smirks. "Though next time, I'll hit harder," now I smile slightly, Jayden feeling very, very similar to Jacob. "There we go. Where should we go?"

"Anywhere from here," I admit. "The water could happen again."

"Let's go," he decides, turning around and looking over his shoulder. "Ally."

I smile and walk towards him, though I keep the cudgel locked firmly. If he turns on me, I'll be prepared. I wouldn't be surprised; if he's a lot like Jacob, like I imagine, then he'll be full of surprises and I won't be expecting any of them. I guess it's just another thing to add to the fun experience of the Hunger Games.

* * *

**Laise Revilyn, District Two Female.**

* * *

Fedora just stares at the girl's dead body, his arrow still implanted in her skull. They haven't collected the bodies; something tells me that they won't whilst we hang around. He finally leans down and plucks it from her head, not even disturbed by the gruesome sight of blood and brain.

"What are we going to do then?" Genevieve asks and I turn around, offering another kind smile that gets turned down once more.

Magnus shrugs and picks up a backpack, before tossing it deeper into the pile. "I have no idea. We could hunt, but the supplies will be lost then. Someone could stay?"

Definitely not Genevieve. Fedora abandoned her for a second and the other tributes just swamped her. They think she's the weakest because of her score and her remotely friendly attitude, but really, she could be just as dangerous.

"Who actually made a kill?" Magnus asks. Dione opens her mouth, but he nods. "I know you did and I did also."

"I got her." Fedora adds.

"We all know that," Genevieve speaks up, a lot more confident than I thought of her. I guess a lot of people underestimate her. "And I got the District Five male," she points to the area where the boy is slumped on the ground, a spear still through his throat. "So that makes all of us."

It hits me. I was the only Career not to kill. I gulp, watching four pairs of eyes turn at me, each burning with a hidden expectation. I didn't think it'd be hard and I tried, but with each swing, I just realised that I had expectations of myself. I wanted a kill that mattered. I wanted to make my name known, even though the thought of all the cameras makes my skin itch. I look at Genevieve strangely, before shrugging.

"I guess it happened faster than I expected," I say nonchalantly, cause really, I have a score to back me up. I consciously pull the sleeves of the sweater over my hands whilst still holding the sword. All the eyes on me is really uncomfortable. "It's not like I won't kill at all," I say, making sure to point out that at any point, we'll have to turn on the other. They understand completely. "Good, now let's drop it."

"Grab what you can," Magnus commands as he grabs a claymore, his perfect weapon. Amity said he was clever with those, a reason why he was chosen. "Supplies and weapons. Don't overload yourself; it's not like Fedora tagged all the tributes to find," then he looks at Fedora as if expecting him to say differently; he doesn't and I smirk. "Exactly. Go on everyone."

Each person grabs whatever they can, thinking of themselves because at the end of the day, we're all selfish, we just don't want to admit it. Dione has her whip, but a backpack that contains an assortment of darts is also an option. Fedora grabs another sheath of arrows - adding to his impressive amount - as well as a backpack containing food. Genevieve just grabs food, whilst Magnus tops his loot off with a backpack that is unknown to me. I step forward last, picking up a smaller, curved blade and tucking it into my boot, as well as a backpack of food.

We all follow our gracious leader into a specific tunnel in a specific order. We've never agreed to this, but it's involuntarily, apparently. Magnus leads with Dione behind him, me and Genevieve in the middle and shorty finishes us up, being a perfect ear and shot.

Being near Genevieve really reminds me of what Magnus ruined. Well... partially ruined. I didn't have to agree with taking out Lux. I could've said no, but where would that have led me? Seen as questioning the alliance? I need to worry about the others, the Careers aren't my top priority, though Magnus, Dione and Fedora are just a little low on my radar, blurring in the background. Genevieve now, apparently.

"I didn't go anywhere near him," I say spontaneously, not even looking at what I guess would be a scowl. "I wouldn't have, Gen."

The others are too far in front to hear us. Fedora might but I don't care. Then, she murmurs. "I wouldn't have let you."

She really stands protective of her district partner, despite not being his ally. I wonder what it's like to care for your district partner? For me, I'm more wary of Magnus than anything. I'm almost sure that Dione and Fedora don't even interact. Yet, Lux has somehow secured a special spot in Genevieve's heart. It's nice to know that she beats her stereotypes nicely.

"I wouldn't have done it either way," I confirm. "I just said it to make him back off. I'd rather him not on my back."

"If you did, you'd have me on your back."

"I think you're a little protective over someone who isn't your ally," I suddenly say quietly, regretting the words but feeling more stupid in trying to retrace. "Why volunteer if you were going to get attached?" my harsh whispers go unnoticed, but the tension radiates off her. I was trying to fix things and have made them oh, I don't know, about ten times worse.

"You don't know me and don't pretend you do." she whispers just as harshly back.

I sigh. "I'm so-"

"Just don't, don't bother. Stick to this alliance and as soon as possible, we're going separate ways and you better sleep with one eye open," she cuts in with a voice laced in ice. "I will win."

"I have the same goal," I push the sleeves even further over my hands, hiding all visible skin from my eyes. It's better this way; Genevieve's pale, pure skin only reminds me of another thing that I don't have and she does. "But fine, whatever."

We suddenly stop and I almost fall into Dione's back. I peer over her shoulder, the end being a metal, iron grid. I've seen that before, when hunting those girls, so why are we stopping all of a sudden?

"What is it?" I ask. Magnus turns around, face half covered in the shadows and half in the light, symbolic for his attitude and personality. He jerks a finger towards the wall where the light ghosts over what must be a tiny, tiny hole. "That?"

"It's another tunnel," he clarifies. "But for small people."

"Your point being?" Genevieve cuts in.

Magnus smirks. "Someone has to go through. Which one of you ladies shall it be?"

The bars suddenly rattle all of a sudden, like the Gamemakers are trying to speak to us. They rattle, brittle cold bars shaking from some sort of pressuring. Everyone stares and everyone knows. It's a warning; we're to avoid it for some reason. I look to Magnus and he stares at me directly. I smirk, knowing he's beat.

"Guess you all got lucky," he finishes, turning his claymore over and pointing it back towards us. "Back we go."

And the nice persona is back. Magnus can hide all he likes, but sooner or later, the facade will crumble. I look to Genevieve again but she doesn't meet my eyes, can't bring herself to do it, can't bear to look at someone who briefly took her trust and crushed it between her fingers.

But that's the story of all Careers; we're made to win, not make friends.

No matter how I thought I could do both.

* * *

**Tambryn Delevingne, District Nine Female.**

* * *

I shake Nadia harder, trying to bring her out of the daze she's pushed herself in. I wave my hand in front of her face, but she sits there, eyes wet and brimmed with tears as she stares at the wall in front of her, completely ignoring everything around us. I sigh, giving up. She was unconscious and managed to come around just after the anthem and seal. It was heartbreaking to see her ask about Grey, if he made it or not. It was even more heartbreaking that I couldn't bring myself to say it, and Maxim had to. She cried, as expected, and I quickly hugged Maxim in order to remind myself that I saved him and in my mind, that was all that was important.

When no-one was looking, I held onto my dreamcatcher and focused. Everything was still right. I mourned Grey's death, but I have to focus on the future and everything.

"Maxxy, I don't know what to do," I admit, looking at the smaller kid sat on the curved wall, knees tucked under his chin. "We can't leave her, but she's deadweight now."

"We can't leave her." he says quietly.

I nod knowingly. "I know that. I just, what can I do?"

He looks up, eyes red and puffy. For a moment, he looks bitter, angry, but most of all, he looks hurt, wounded, sad. He then glances down, sniffing hard. "We... we wait for her."

It's not the better answer, but it'll have to do. I was drawn to Nadia because she felt like a free-spirit, someone who would live life happily and pure. I felt my palms tickle when I was near her and that was almost a sign itself. Then, I met Grey, and everything made sense. We were meant to be together. Now Grey has died... I look at Nadia and I don't know whether she's a help or hinderance towards what fate has planned. It'll play out perfectly - like always - but that doesn't stop me from questioning it from time to time. Something in the air, the... atmosphere, just doesn't feel right.

"Are you okay Maxxy?" I ask. It's a dumb question but one that needs to be answered. "You can talk to me, you know."

"I'm fine," he smiles falsely, an act of bravado. He's not okay, and that's okay. "I just... I miss Grey."

They were never that close. I wonder what is really up with him? I give up though, unable to focus on what might be wrong with him. I'm here for him and pressuring him will only lead to a tension between us that shouldn't even be a possibility. Could it be about being the youngest? Maxim beat out older tributes. The other little children, Bailey dubbed them, were the fifteen year olds and Grey. Grey is dead, and I'm pretty sure that most of the fifteen year olds have died too. It could be survivor's guilt, something I remember my aunt Estelle telling me.

I'll never know. I don't plan on pushing him. Without Grey, the group feels oddly broken. I look at Nadia and wave my hand again, but nothing registers. I look at Maxim and smile, but nothing registers also. The bloodbath really has broken them, showed them that their chances are slim. It's affected me but in a different way. The carnage was beyond dangerous, but I had my role to play, a role fate had given me, and that was to fight tooth and nail in order to protect my allies. I wouldn't have had it any other way.

"I'm going to scout out front," I say, though nobody picks up on it. Maxim does, however, mumble something and nod weakly. He'll get over it, I hope. "See you in a moment."

I begin to trace down the tunnels, running my hand against the cement, curved wall. It feels nice, in a sense. It's like a deeper meaning of structure. Shows that fate has most things planned out; I hope that Maxim and Nadia becoming alright is also another plan to conquer. It's hard seeing them like that, knowing there's nothing you can really do. I feel hopeless, I guess. I sink deeper into the tunnels, and when I turn around, I can't see either of them. My teeth chatter slightly and I consciously tug the sweater closer to my neck.

The sound of sobbing catches me off-guard. My heart skips a beat and I turn around, puzzled, staring into the black abyss. Another sob; a tribute.

Part of me wants to run away. If they lost their ally, they'd be too upset and might run. It could be a ploy as well. I don't want to leave Maxim and Nadia alone. I don't want this tribute to be alone either. I can't just ignore someone crying, that's... heartless. I step forward, hand still holding the sweater around my throat, and stare harder.

Another sob makes me crane my head around the corner of the tunnel. A young girl is curled up against the wall, much like Maxim, not actually sitting in the water but rather leaning against the curve. She's even sat like Maxim, knees under her chin, and the sight makes me remember the little boy who, without me, might not have gotten an ally. I can't ignore the comparison and step forward.

"Are you okay?" I say, startling her. She leaps to her feet, almost falling over from the fright. She stares at me with wide eyes captured by the light, red and puffy. "I, I didn't mean to scare you, I just, I thought you looked sad," it's the girl from District Eleven, Harlow. I remember her with clarity. My palms suddenly tingle and it's a sign, a sign I need to take seriously. She doesn't say anything, just steps backwards. I raise my hands quickly. "No no no, I'm not, I'm not dangerous or armed."

She doesn't need to know about the knife tucked into my boot, or the kaiser blade back at "camp".

"District Nine," she mumbles. "I'm District Eleven."

"Tambryn," I correct her. "And Harlow, I remember. Harlow, are you on your own?" she looks confused by the care, but nods anyway. "Do you want to come with me? You'll be a lot more safer."

She hesitates, as expected, but I won't go. My palms are buzzing with energy and life and I just know that this was the right move, I was to walk away and find the noise, the crying, the girl. I lay my hand out gently and look at her dead in the eye, hoping to show how serious I am with it. I want to protect her; she's an importance piece, much like Grey was.

"Okay," she sniffs, using a long sleeve to rub her weary eyes. "Thank, thank you."

"No mention it." I smile, watching her hand slip into mine with ease.

* * *

**Finch Caraway, District Ten Male.**

* * *

"What's that?"

Nerys presses the button again, grinning wickedly as a spark of blue electricity fades between the two pieces of metal. "It's a taser," she says it simply, like I would know. Reminds me of a cattle prod. "Electrocute someone with it."

I nod slowly, watching her pace back and forth in the little corner we've huddled in. You'd get lost after a while; we learned that when we found ourselves back at the Cornucopia a moment, abandoned by everyone, dead bodies gone but the ground still painted with their blood turned almost brown. But, the little trip allowed Nerys to pick up the taser after much searching and digging, trying to find the perfect thing. In that mean time, I managed to grab some knuckle dusters. I remember these from training, I just never expected them in the loot. I guess if you really do dig deeper, the more weirder, rarer weapons are found.

I look down at the two brass items in my hand, pondering on whether or not to wear them. I look up as Nerys clicks the button again. I wonder if they're like rubber, and might protect me from electrocution?

"Think we should move or stay?" Nerys says mindlessly, just staring at her weapon. "We could do whatever, I'm not bothered," she pauses, clicks it, then sighs contentedly. "You can pick."

"You might waste the battery," I mutter. Nerys hums, like she doesn't know what I'm talking about, before dipping into her backpack and revealing batteries. "Ah."

Nerys tends to fade from different kinds of intensity. One moment, she focuses solely on one thinking, driving it with such a passion, you could deem her a little obsessive or greedy. Then, she'll switch, eating something up until she's literally brimming at the eyes from being so full. She's greedy, plain and simple, but not in the sense of food. She's... hungry for everything else. Luckily, she hasn't thrown herself at me, not that I'd expect it or anything, I just imagine her being the type to be careless and carefree, without a care in the world until she's threatened.

Then again, I haven't spent a lot of time with her - as much as I could, I avoided her, simply because I couldn't handle it. I accepted without realising the commitment it brought along. I accepted without thinking about my emotions and my heart... it only reminds me of home and everything I left behind, everything I don't miss and yet yearn for.

"Think if I threw this in the water, with the button pressed down, that it'd electrocute everything in sight?" Nerys asks.

I shrug. "Possibly. Don't try it though, I'd rather not you accidentally kill yourself," though I secretly think it'd be better. "Or me, for that matter."

Then she turns around, eyes dark and almost hollow. She doesn't say anything but blinks, almost in a trance, before bending over and slipping the weapon into her backpack. Not the brightest choice; she might need it to defend herself. But, I suspect that I'll have to do it and become the man of this alliance. The word stuns me more than I realise. It's almost like, really, your problems just follow you into the arena, rather than leaving it on the doorstep. It makes focusing that much harder.

"Are we leaving or not?"

"We'll stay," I decide for us, taking the lead role. Nerys growls - almost like an animal, though I bet it's down to stress or something - before sitting on the curve. "I think it's for the best."

"Do you now..."

"You did ask for me to choose," I grow defensive. "Should have just taken the liberty and done it yourself."

Larsen. She's a lot like Larsen in this retrospect. He used to say things, hinting at what he wanted, then would flip if he didn't get it the way he wanted. He was an okay person, before everything happened and he become a complete and utter asshole. Now, the thought of him makes my blood boil with fire. Calvin, too, but I always liked him more than Larsen... liked him more than a lot of the other guys in our group. The only other person besides Calvin I actually liked was Celeste, and that's only because she stayed by my side and showed me that she was a true friend, unlike the others who either abandoned me or turned on me in disgust. Nerys could be the same; difference is that I won't have to worry about Nerys forever and what she might think of me, because at the end of the day, only one walks away.

If I win, I still have to face them. The tributes might die, but Calvin and Larsen and the others won't. They'll still be there, waiting, ready to unleash more hell.

Only this time, I would've been to hell and back and they'd be nothing more to me.

"Alright whatever Finch," she sighs. "I didn't mean it like that," she pauses, adjusts herself and moves a little closer, smile playing on her lips. "I'm just tired and, in a weird sense, you taking charge is more than attractive," she leans a little closer. "Hot, even. You should do it more, you know."

That catches me off-guard. I'm hot? "Should I?"

She nods slowly, the smile full-blown. "Most definitely," she pulls her backpack closer, playing with the zip. "You're more than welcome to take charge." her voice is raspy and deeper now, like it's broken.

"Thanks?"

She stands up abruptly, her face sort of confused but darkened. "I... I'm going to look around. We got lost once, I don't want to do it again."

I nod as Nerys walks away, her hips swishing, like she's trying to make a point. It makes my throat dry, a deep, hollow feeling in my stomach. I remember Mina doing that when she found out; it only makes me more and more sick and confused. She'll be there also. They'll all be waiting for my return.

And I will return without a doubt.

* * *

**Wisteria Arnette, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

I inspect the cut on my hand, wincing as I touch it lightly. It goes from the base of my thumb, all the way across my palm to the base of my pinky. It's red, ripped up, bubbling underneath the light. I managed to escape, but with the cost of this, I might not be able to use my right hand, and that's the only one I can use. I sigh and slip my eyes closed, listening to the hum of water dripping. What can I do? As far as I know, I'll just have to walk around and wait, wondering if around each corner if a tribute might find me. Jayden is alive, I'm thankful for that surprisingly, but at the same time, I wish he died. I wish they all died. I wish things were easier.

I think back to Iris telling me to come home and my hand slips underneath my sweater towards the pocket on the inside. I pull forth my token - a little, plastic shoe - rolling it through my fingers whilst my other hand hangs limply. Help me, Iris.

They were going to take it away. For some reason, my stylist wasn't happy about it. He thought it would be unfair that it could be used as a weapon. What am I going to do with a little glass shoe? Poke someone in the eye? It won't work. I fought for it, though, telling my stylist that a token connects you to home and this is mine. I might not have freedom of speech, but I know I'm more important than a stylist, irreplaceable, and they finally caved in.

My eyes shoot up at the sound of a loud bang. I look further down the tunnel, but I can't see anything. I heard something earlier, something that made the cement walls shake, but that sound was different to this. My heart races and I roll the shoe through my hand for comfort. What is it? I stare harder. There's a flicker of light, but not the same as the white, clean light, but rather... tainted. It's confusing, and whilst I want to run, I'm almost attracted to whatever it is.

The bang happens again and snaps me out of the trance. I quickly throw myself to the watery ground as something happens over my head, breeze brushing the strays hairs fallen from my braids.

I have no idea what it is, but I'm crawling forward, a mixture of sickness and excitement flooding through my veins. The water stings against my open wound, but I clench my teeth and continue to crawl. My other hand grips onto the shoe, water slipping through my fingers and almost pushing it away.

My backpacks!

I look over my shoulder, two orange backpacks abandoned against the wall. I worked hard for them. I got this injury, almost lost my life, just to grab these. I awkwardly spin around and crawl back for them, the tunnel silent and haunting. It's hard to breathe. I take a large gulp of air, but it's hard to swallow, hard to breathe. I struggle for the air, like a fish out of water, begging for the oxygen. It clouds my eyes and my trembling fingers hook through one loop of the backpack, connecting the other and pulling them forward.

It's playing tricks on me. My fingers are heavy. The backpacks topple over, splashing into the water as I attempt to drag them towards me, body feeling limp and weak.

My throat is constricting. I try to breathe again, but it's wheezy and hard, like the air is literally escaping the tunnel. Was that it? I can't think straight. I struggle to pull them towards me but clench my teeth, trying harder. It's a gamble but everything is. When the backpacks are near, I hastily force them onto my shoulder, eyes flickering open and close as the lack of oxygen begins to hit me.

"H-Hel-" I mumble, but speaking or muttering or whatever makes it harder for me to focus. My mind is fuzzy, too, but the throbbing pain from my hand in the water reminds me of everything, keeping me rooted to reality.

There's been no noise again, but the lack of air is enough to make your heart beat faster. I'm dead. I'm dead and it's only been a day. I can't... I need...

I force myself up onto wobbly legs and stagger forward, hands grabbing at the backpack to hold it in place. I stagger from side to side and try to run, breathing heavy, hard, tears peppering my weakened vision and my heart just thumping and thumping and thumping...

I turn the corner and suddenly, I feel it. I take the largest gulp of air possible, almost coughing from the stress. I made it. I'm still alive!

My breathing comes out in heavy bursts and I clutch my heart with my good hand, trying to slow it down. I rest my head against the rough cement and allow the tears to slip silently. What happened? I turn my head around the corner, trying to focus my vision so that it comes back to me. The tunnel looks fine, but I know it wasn't. It was a trick, something the eye couldn't see. They tried to suffocate me... I've never felt that claustrophobic in my life.

As I pull my hands away, my heart sinks. The little shoe has disappeared. I fumble, slamming both my hands against my chest - ignoring the pain - trying to calm my heart as the realisation hits me. My connection to District Twelve is lost, gone, buried underneath the shadowy water. The Capitol has cut the last piece of string holding me to my home. They've taken everything now.

Iris...

I did everything for her. Everything and more. I'm... I'm here for her. I'm here because she needs a better life. Winning might do that, but that's not the reason. That's not why I volunteered.

Volunteering keeps her safe. It keeps her alive.

Even if I had to die for it.

* * *

******It's Time by Imagine Dragons.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******No Deaths.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Any alliances that are your favourite, and why?**_

_**Any idea on possible plots?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

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**I know this chapter might feel slow, but I wanted to come down from the craziness of the bloodbath and just focus on some of the tributes and how they're doing. This way, it'll open up the arena more to you, as well as letting you know how the others did when they escaped. Next chapter we'll go back to deaths ;)**

**I literally used this chapter to showcase the arena some more, give you some ideas of what might come, hint at some possible plots, and focus on the tributes' alliances and all that.**

**As I said, there was nothing here remotely plot-worthy, but I did manage to ally some others up. I'm not a huge fan of solo tributes because whilst it's realistic, it's hard to portray them in an interesting manner. Our only solo people are Wisteria and Piper; their stories will hold them up!**

**Besides that, Darek is now with Jayden, and Harlow has joined Tambryn, Maxim and Nadia.**

**HOLY ADRA CHURCH DIED JUST THE ONCE. Thanks Megan.**

**The bloodbath poll results are up! This is the one where you voted for what tributes you wanted to survive. As you'll see, I took some of your answers into account.**


	10. Torn

**Torn.**

_You're a little late, I'm already torn._

* * *

**Dione Martell, District One Female.**

* * *

Finally, we give up. After much discussion - from Magnus and Genevieve, mainly - Magnus has let us sit down and stop. He's a good enough leader, though I'm glad he has that position and not me. Sometimes, he looks tired or conflicted, but he quickly hides it. He can't hide it from me though. When I killed that girl from District Eight and her district partner kicked him between the legs, I saw him break. I saw him crack open like a shell and reveal something I've never seen before. He hides it, whatever it is.

I sit down and finger the bag open, pulling out the darts. Laise gives me a wary look as she sits down opposite me. She won't understand, none of them will. I pull out the array of darts into my palm and start to push the point through the leather. I glance up, Laise's curious eyes on me.

"Makes it tougher," I say off-handedly. "Also, a lot more sharper."

"This is probably the first time you've ever talked to me," she replies, her voice a mixture of surprise and ice. I shrug my shoulders and continue to pierce them. "Don't you want them poisoned first? They are poisonous darts, after all."

Laise is just like all the other girls in District One that never understood me. Never understood what I did. No, of course not, they just jumped to conclusions - only some were right - and began to spread the rumors like wildfire. Before I knew it, I became the local "bicycle" that anyone could find. It was easy, I admit, just to flirt a little to get what I wanted. If I need some extra food, the butcher down the street was more than welcome to take other payments for a slab of beef. I'm not a prostitute, I don't sell myself, but it's nice to know that people are willing to hand you things for a simple bit of flirting and attention. You'd be amazed at how many people in District One feel... out of place.

I just didn't expect people to find out and then use me as some sort of entertainment.

"I could hit myself with them when I roll the whip up," I reply. "This way, I just get pricked," there's a pause and I look up at Laise's eyes slowly drifting towards Fedora, who looks like he's sniffing the air. "It'll give us a better advantage."

"Or yourself." Laise comes back.

"Only one winner, after all, so it's not like I'm selfish."

Laise doesn't respond. I've watched her enough - Laise is very bittersweet. Her personality varies on who you are or how you react. She was always kind to Genevieve, indifferent to myself and Fedora, and she seemed to have a little bit of banter with Magnus. She's one of the many girls that I dislike. Finally, I lift the weapon up, admiring it. Perfect. This'll make kills so I don't have to strangle each damn tribute.

Fedora cuts across the gap and locks in another arrow. For a moment, everyone turns, expecting to find a tribute there. He raises the bow and the tension is running high. I stand up immediately, locking my eyes in the distance.

"False alarm," he mumbles and I sigh, because really, what was the point in that? "We should get hunting soon though. If things become boring, they'll set up traps and send out Mutts."

"Where do you suggest we go then?" Magnus quips.

"Anywhere but here. This direction, together, maybe split up. I don't really care."

Magnus jerks his head in Genevieve's direction and her eyes snap into a glare. "I disagree. Stay together," she pauses and looks at Laise, eyes cold. "Right, Laise?"

"Right." she replies sullenly.

Everyone stands up on command, and it's only then do I realise that we must resemble some large machine, all working together. Except, we don't, not really. No Career is trustworthy. The sweet ones, the quiet ones, they're the most dangerous and there's no denying it. Fedora once told Aphrodite that we resemble a wolf pack. I had no idea what he meant, but now, now I do. Magnus makes a command and everyone moves, just not out of respect. We move because at the end of the day, our alliance is beneficial to us all to a point. When that ends, they leave or they die. I'll find the right moment and either tear them down from the inside out, or sneak out in the night. Either way, I won't be that one Career who dies at the hands of another Career.

I curl the whip around my hand, avoiding the array of darts. Laise joins me at the side and we begin to motion down the tunnel, all together. No-one would dare come near us. For once, I have a gang, some people who keep others away from me. Back in District One, people avoided me because of the stupid rumours. People would look and stare and whisper and it made my skin crawl. Sometimes, I cried. Just burst into tears because I couldn't handle the attention. That's the one thing I hate about this - the attention. I don't want to become a Victor or famous, it was just an escape. An escape from the judgement. With the money, I'd leave. Just pack up and go to the Capitol. There, no-one judges you.

When we hit a junction, Magnus makes the decision though he listens to both Fedora and Genevieve's advice. Laise stays quiet, her eyebrows constantly knotted. I don't say anything either, but that's cause I don't care for their decisions, not really. We turn left, our feet echoing against the water. I hate water... always have, always will. No matter the quantity, it's something that hides too many mysteries.

Kinda like the Careers.

I glance at Laise and then Genevieve. With them already breaking, they'd be the weak point. Increase it to make a distraction. I smile slightly to myself as the plan forms in my mind. Force the pair into situations that will cause conflict. Magnus done a good job creating it, but I'll finish it.

* * *

**Harlow Bellamy, District Eleven Female.**

* * *

Maxim's eyes never leave mine, a distinct bitterness held in those light orbs. I gulp, looking around awkwardly at Nadia and Tambryn. She was kind enough to let me into the alliance, but her allies are less than thrilled. Maxim won't stop staring at me with accusing eyes and Nadia doesn't even acknowledge me.

"So, Harlow," Tambryn turns her head at me, causing me to eye her up, Maxim by her side and his eyes still locked onto me. "What is District Eleven like?"

I gulp, pushing Darren to the back of my thoughts. "It's nice... it's home. I miss the trees and the smell of apples," I admit truthfully, because what little time Darren allowed me outdoors, that's what I did. Just sat underneath the apple tree and admired God's work at hand. "I miss my bed and my friends."

"What about family?"

"Oh," I squeak, trying to hide the obvious quiver of my lip. "Oh, my family, they um, yeah I miss them a lot," I force a smile and Tambryn allows hers to reach underneath her eyes. "What about y-you and District Nine?"

"I've never really liked District Nine that much," she admits. "People in District Nine are rather narrow-minded. They don't open themselves up to the bigger picture most of the time. You can feel the prejudice radiating off of most residents," she adds coolly, before turning to Maxim. "Isn't that right Maxim?"

He glances up at her and nods. When he looks back at me, I don't feel so uncomfortable. His eyes are softer now, like he pities Tambryn. Oh, oh yeah, Maxim might've known Tambryn from their district. I never knew Adra, since I didn't go to school. His name sends a wave of guilt through my body, settling down like a ton of bricks. With his death, that's one more connection to home just gone. I'll miss him despite our friendship never really blossoming like it could of.

"What about District Six, Nadia?" Tambryn asks. Nadia looks up, clueless to what she said. "I said what was District Six like?"

"Peachy." she brushes it off. Tambryn flinches, like Nadia just slapped her in the face.

"Your mood soured quickly," Tambryn mutters, causing Nadia to scoff. "Nadia what is wrong with you?" she sounds desperate and my stomach flips from nerves.

Nadia snaps her head in their direction and from the side, I can see the faintest dull glossing her eyes. My eyebrows knit as I look harder, almost trying to decipher her.

"Nothing," she almost hisses, purple bags underneath her eyes very clear under the light. I can't move my eyes from them, mesmerized. "I said I was peachy, didn't I?" her head suddenly snaps at me and my heart leaps to my throat. "What are you looking at?"

I shake my head, lost for words. I never had to worry about being torn apart by Savannah. For an alliance, Nadia is making it her mission to make me feel small. It's working though. I instantly shrink back at her sight until she finally looks the opposite way, grunting under her breath. I catch Tambryn's wary eyes, and whilst sympathetic, it just reminds me that I'm out of place here.

"So," Tambryn cuts the tension with her words. "Harlow," I look up and she smiles crookedly. "Do you believe in fate?"

My eyes widen again. Darren always told me to keep my religion quiet. He doesn't believe in God at all - and he doesn't allow me to preach, even though I wouldn't - and his harsh whispers were always to never, ever tell anyone about my beliefs. His words echo in my mind once more as I stare at Tambryn harder, searching quickly for an answer.

"I... I don't believe in fate," I admit truthfully. Everything that happens has something to do with God. Predestination. "...not everything happens for a reason."

Tambryn sits forward a little. "You don't think that some higher power pushes and persuades things, making them happen?" she asks.

I bite gently on my bottom lip. There is a higher power, just not fate. "Nope," I reply timidly. "I don't."

"But then what actually makes things happen?" she queries, eyes bright. "Something causes everything to happen. Fate does that. Fate pushes things forward and sets them in motion," she leans closer a little bit more again, Maxim almost sucked into the shadow her body creates. "If there isn't fate, what causes everything to happen? Something does; it just doesn't happen."

I want to shrink back again. Something I remember from my childhood was my religion being the main focus of my family. My parents, they treasured what they had, said that it gave them hope. They wouldn't miss the chance to tell someone about the wonders that God can do. Darren, though, he won't allow that... but at the same time, I feel like it's my duty to continue what my parents had always done. I owe it to them.

_Don't tell anyone our secret, got it?_

"Come on Harlow," Tambryn smiles. "I don't want to argue, I won't bite either, but I like this discussion. Best one I've had since leaving District Nine."

"I-I dunno."

"Harlow," Tambryn drawls with that lopsided smile of hers, the same one she cracked when she found me. "It won't hurt to say what's on your mind. Go on."

My whole mind is conflicted. My parents, the ones who loved me and raised me well, or Darren, the "brother" who now cares for me? I feel like I'm betraying one or the other by staying silent or speaking out. The only difference is one could get me killed, whilst the other would simply make me feel as useless as I did when I watched Savannah die, eyes pleading for a girl who couldn't save her.

"I-I don't believe in fate," I mutter, swallowing my whole throat, it feels like. "I-I think there's something else, but not fate," I hold my breath as Tambryn's eyes light up with curiosity. "Just not fate."

"Continue," Tambryn encourages but I shake my head. I look at Maxim, but I can't see him, body pressed into Tambryn's. "Harlow, we're your allies, you can trust us."

But I shake my head again. I just can't. I can't betray Darren when I know that speaking out could get me killed. He told me not to speak and I cannot. I owe him that much. This one time, when I spoke about it, he let loose, screaming and shouting and punching himself in the head. I was terrified; my faith could do that to one single person. I promised myself to try not cause that much trouble for Darren, the person who managed to give me a home.

"I see," Tambryn sighs. Maxim leans forward, his eyes not so accusing anyone but rather lost, like he's confused. He glances at me and offers a small smile. It's confusing, considering all the hateful glares he's been sending my way, but any little kid would feel like that when you step into their home. I remember that happening to me as a child. "Well, let's try and lighten the mood, yes?"

* * *

**Nadia Halifax, District Six Female.**

* * *

Tambryn is too perky. She's trying way too hard to shield Maxim away from everything. His sparkling blue eyes hold so much innocence that somehow, he's managed to manipulate her into basically wanting to protect him throughout the rest of his life.

I wince, the bright light too much. One moment, Grey's on my mind, his dark hair and pale skin almost glittering underneath the lime light quite literally. Then his death flashes by, the red anger of the killer's face that seems to blend into Grey's blood, mixing into a horrific picture. He falls and I can't do nothing. It's like a black abyss; something I just can't climb out of. After that, the numbness hits. It's dull and heated, a reminder that my last fix was... so long ago. I lean back against the cool cement and turn my head towards the darkness.

Tambryn is too perky. I can still hear her voice no matter how much I try and block it out. I don't hate her, she's been nice, but the mood will continue to sour as long as I don't have morphling. One time, I went so long without it, I almost ripped my house apart in anger. I don't withdraw, not really, I just lash out. It's always been a problem in my household but it's something that I can't help. I'm an addict, the first stage of rehabilitation, but I can't stop it.

I glance up as Tambryn laughs, little Maxim by her side. He smiles sadly, those brightened orbs just beaming through the damp, darkened tunnel. He's like a beacon of hope. A beacon of hope that Tambryn has clutched onto and literally carries around with her. Does it make her feel better, helping someone helpless? My heart stills. Was I doing that with Grey? Using him as some sort of redemption? I can't think. I can't be asked to think. I sigh tiredly and glance over Harlow, before looking back at the darkness.

She's another strange one. I only really listened to clips of their conversation, but Harlow was acting like Tambryn had a knife at her throat and pressuring her for answers. I don't like Harlow. Well, I don't know her, but for now, I don't like her. She's a leech, if anything.

I close my eyes briefly and wish away the dull thudding behind my eyes. It's like someone is dancing on my skull, bright red shoes clipping and digging and cutting into bleach white flooring.

"Ahhh!" I scream, forcing myself up. A bead of sweat slides off my nose, before I realise that all eyes are on me. "W-"

"What was that?" Tambryn almost sounds accusing. "Are you trying to let every other tribute know where we are?"

"I didn't do it on purpose," I bite back. Stupid perky Tambryn. "I-I don't know what happened."

"Well then." she frowns.

I swallow dryly, my throat raw and torn. I gulp down again in an attempt to draw saliva, but it doesn't work either. It's never been this bad before. Then again, I haven't gone this long without a fix. Each time I try to count how many days exactly, I lose track of everything. I can't even really remember what life was like back in District Six, and Tambryn's question over it had rubbed me the wrong way. She makes it sound like she is some victim and whilst she might be - whilst I see like her - I find her words to be... a bit intruding.

The dull thud on my skull keeps me awake when I close my eyes. The others aren't sleeping, Tambryn and Harlow have a small, one-sided conversation whilst Maxim sits idly beside his "master".

Did people see the same for me and Grey? Of course they didn't. I, well he, he wanted to protect me when it should have been the other way round. I couldn't save him, his dark eyes breaking across the green chaos towards me, and I couldn't save him. I don't even know who took me down and I don't want to question Tambryn on it either; it'll only remind me that I needed Tambryn's help more than anything. Where was Max at the time? I try to concentrate, reminding myself where Maxim was when me and Tambryn tried to get to Grey. I can't remember because he wasn't there. He escaped unscathed whilst Grey died, despite Grey being more needy and helpless.

I blame myself. I blame myself for allowing Grey to be alone.

I force my eyes open when I notice the sweat falling down off of my hair. I don't know how much longer I can cope. With each passing second, my stability is decreasing. It's like I can actually feel it. It's like I can feel my mind shattering piece by piece, shards of glass falling from the barrier and exposing me to something that I haven't been able to face for many years.

One more fix, and I'd be fine. Just a little injection and then I'd be perfect, I'd be able to cope, I'd be able to forget.

I'd be able to not feel whatsoever.

"Nadia?" I look up at Maxim's voice this time, so sweet and bright, like music notes streaming from his mouth. My eyelids are heavy, the world blurring at the corners. "Nadia, you don't look so good."

Tambryn and Harlow fall silent. I force myself to stare at Maxim harder, but his face is morphing, shaping, dark hair replacing light, whilst blue eyes dilute to brown. His skin grows pale, freckled, and I want to cry at who he looks like. It's Grey again. The boy who I couldn't save.

"I'm fine Grey," I mumble, but no-one responds. My eyes are slipping shut again, unable to hold open. "I'm fine."

* * *

**Bliss Promenade, District Three Female.**

* * *

"Brigan, darling, did you want anything to eat?" I say sweetly. Brigan looks up, eyes hidden beneath his curls. He shakes his head and looks back down at his bag. "Oh, well, we have tons. How about you Lux?"

"I'm fine thank you." Lux replies.

Great. I sigh, zipping the backpack back up. I thought my allies had more flare then this. Lux has done nothing but sulk or stay away, which, I do not understand after everything, whilst Brigan seems to be withdrawn to his backpack. No-one even cares I'm right here! I scrunch my lips up, trying my hardest to will away the frown and increasing anger. No. Each fibre I have of anger, I have to redirect it to Jayden. Jayden and Nadia. My antagonists.

I mean, how could Jayden target Lux, trying to attack him and injure him? If I wasn't there to save Lux, Jayden might've killed him. I tried my hardest to attack back, but Jayden was too fast, too clever, too strong, and I failed. He ran away and now we're safe. He's probably working with Nadia, the pair of them conspiring against us. But no. He attacked Lux and I had to defend him, just like the angry boy from District Seven who charged at me with a knife. I had to kill him, completely self-defence, I didn't have a choice because the boy had already completely lost his mind to the Hunger Games. Dying at my hands was the quickest, most painless way to die.

I've done nothing wrong. I've done nothing another tribute wouldn't do in the same circumstance.

So why do I feel like Brigan and Lux are being distant with me?

Maybe we need to hunt. Running and fighting, that might make the blood boil and get their hearts pumping. Right now, Lux and Brigan aren't going to make my book with this boredom. I can only exaggerate so much without it coming off as suspicious. I stand up abruptly and look at Lux, a smile twisting on my face as an idea forms.

"Lux, sweetie, can you come on a walk with me quickly?" he looks at me with a knotted, tight-lipped smile but stands anyway. "Thank you. Brigan, we'll be back in a moment, I just want to check something out."

"Um... o-okay."

"Great, thank you," I usher for Lux to follow me and he does so, running a hand through his short hair. We walk and walk until Brigan's body has faded into the shadows and I sigh slightly. "I'm sorry for bringing Brigan into the alliance... I just, I missed Jayden and Brigan was on his own. My heart went out to him."

"I understand," he mumbles. "I feel the same."

"Are you sure? I see the way you look at him," he can't see my face, but I try and hide the smile as much as possible, just so it doesn't sound like it in my voice. Lux is perceptive, I know that much. "I think you don't Brigan as much as you liked Jayden. But Lux... h-he attacked me."

Lux's footsteps stop immediately and I grin, twitching my fingers. I spin around and Lux's eyes are wide. I bow my head, hiding my eyes behind my hair.

"J-Jayden attacked you?" Lux stutters, almost sad.

I nod slowly. "Yes," I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing a single tear to slip out. "H-He charged at me with a knife. H-He tried to kill m-me, Lux."

He gulps thickly. "H-He, he tried, Bliss, I mean, he, he was with me and we were looking for you... oh God, he c-could have killed me."

I allow more tears to slide out, Lux's face contorting into a mixture of anger and comfort. He's grown protective of me and whilst that's cute, it's also needed. I always promised to showcase Lux in a positive light in my book, since he is the love interest in my mind. I step forward, forcing my hands to go outwards, shaky. Lux's eyes widen even more and he swoops forward, wrapping his arms around me. I push my head into the nape of his neck and openly cry, his hands roaming my back and soothing me. I continue to cry, sliding my hands down his back and hooking them in the hoops of his tight pants. I hear him gasp but I quickly cry, reminding him of what he needs to do for me.

"It's okay, it's okay," Lux soothes. "Jayden's gone now. He, he's not going to hurt us anymore," his hands brace my shoulders and pushes me back. "We have Brigan now. And we're a duo, like we were before. W-We'll be okay, Bliss."

I nod, swallowing an imaginary thick lump. I lean forward, allowing my eyelashes to flutter away the fake tears. Lux freezes as I gently push my lips against his, closing my eyes. He's hesitant, at first, but soon melts into it. I even allow myself to smile against his lips. It's all perfect. Lux might have been protective before, but now, now I'm gonna make him obsessive. Jayden leaving might have been the perfect thing. I do need a better bad guy since Nadia has avoided me like the little worm that she really is. This has worked out surprisingly well.

I pull back and look at Lux's fluttering eyes, sparkling underneath the light. He smiles softly and I smile too.

"We should get back to Brigan." he suggests.

"Yeah, yeah we should," he turns around, but I quickly clasp his wrist and spin him around. "Let's not tell him. I don't want him to feel left out."

Lux nods. "O-okay."

I gently run my fingers down his sleeve, brushing against his hand, feeling how cold he really is. He shivers underneath my touch and I smile again. This'll be too easy. With Lux now secured as a love interest, Jayden portrayed as a bad guy, Nadia as the snivelling weakling that couldn't handle it, and Brigan as the little child I care for, my story will blow the minds of every person within Panem, Capitol and districts alike.

But as me and Lux walk back to Brigan, it hits me. A plot twist.

I smile. Time to cause some confliction between the allies; Brigan and Lux, get ready for things to blow up.

* * *

**Piper Oxalis, District Ten Female.**

* * *

I take a bite from the beef jerky, swallowing down hard, forcing myself to eat. My hand grazes over my stomach and I try to sort my priorities out.

I'm fighting for myself and a child. But, for now, I need to fight for myself. If I lose everything, become clouded by all the chaos, then I'm just letting him or her down. I'm failing at being a parent before it has even happened. A soft ding in the air makes me look upwards, hopeful. From the shadows, a silver parachute and container flutters down to me almost dreamily. A grin breaks out on my face as it lands in the water, tiny splashes landing on my boot. I quickly bend over and fish it up, opening it up and pulling the note out.

_Take this. I'm sure everything is going to be fine, Piper -S_

Sunny has always been good to me. When I had no-one else, no real friends, I had Sunny. We first met when she came into the tavern, face hollow. Everyone knows Sunny from being a Victor, but from also having the Head Peacekeeper as a brother. Bale and Sunny were close, as close as they could be, but then he got sent away. Being a District Ten native, Sunny told me, he could only stay at his home for so long before he had to go to District Two and retrain.

Problem was, he never did come back. Sunny was told he had been permanently transferred there. We bonded, that night, over drinks and failures. Everyone knew about both my mother and father abandoning me, because well, who doesn't know the con man's daughter? My father was famous for ripping people off. He left me, and I had nowhere to go. Sunny could sympathise after losing her parents at a young age as well.

I open up the canister to reveal some medicine. I frown, pulling out the pills, one green, one blue. I stare harder, trying to work out what Sunny means by it. Then again, she said everything is going to be... I quickly throw the pills into my mouth and swallow, everything suddenly feeling at ease. It's like my brain is knotted and is finally being released. I sigh, resting my head against the cement.

I need to move, I think. Each moment I wait is another moment that I'm in here and not at home. The baby's father... it's not like he cares. I could just shame him right here and right now, let everyone know that someone with authority knocked a girl up then abandoned her.

Would he even care about him or her? He knows I'm pregnant. I scoff, because he couldn't get rid of me quick enough, worried his wife would find out.

Another soft ding fills the air and I'm almost ready to laugh as a second parachute finds me. Who would be sponsoring me? I'm almost sure that there are many other tributes who are more interesting, more stronger, more capable, and yet someone has been spending their money on me. I scoop the parachute off the floor, head feeling light.

_You're in luck, you and Finch are bringing in a lot of money -S_

My heart sinks. Finch. Is Finch's money buying me the pills and - I open the canister up to reveal a blood red apple - food? I feel bad for him. Me and Finch don't speak, both too occupied in ourselves, but everyone has some distinct connection to their district partner, whether you like them or not. That person was plucked from the poverty alongside you; you can't help but feel a minute connection. I hope Finch goes far but that we never cross paths, particularly with the creepy girl from District Five as his ally. Does he even know that she's not all there between her ears?

I quickly grab my quarterstaff and stand up, blinking back the shadows that build in front of my eyes. Whatever Sunny gave me, it's almost like a sedative, the kind that my baby daddy used to slip me before we done the deed in his wife's bed. Bitterly, I bend and grab the backpack, beginning to walk down the tunnel.

I want to blame my father for everything but I can't. Mother walked away easily - though she wasn't all brought together in the head, so my father says - and father had to run. He had to escape after we tried to steal some meat from an abattoir located down the street. We would both have been punished. I blink back the tears, remembering how I fell over, crying, and how he tried to help but in the end carried on running. I want to hate him for that. I want to spit on his grave, and yet, I can only think of the man that raised me and tried to provide a better life for me. He ran, and then Peacekeeper Vega found me, lecherous smile and snake-like eyes. He promised me a better life alongside as I returned the favour on multiple occasions.

The tears fall freely as I continue to walk further and further, feet aching. Lucky saved me, though, giving me the barmaid job and the room above the tavern. With Lucky's help, I was able to escape.

Lucky's name is another that weighs heavily on my heart. I never got to tell him that I loved him. That the blonde haired, blue-eyed boy was my reason for staying alive, before I found out I was pregnant. Lucky is the only one who knows. He got the local veterinarian - the one who usually told the farmers about pregnant cattle - to test on me after a series of morning sickness and blood.

I finally give up walking, fingers uncurling to drop the backpack and quarterstaff. I was so held together, and now, now I can only think about all the different reasons as to why I need to return home. Each one weighs on my shoulders more and more, yet, they are the only reasons I have left. My daughter or son. Lucky. Sunny's friendship and Macaulay's kind eyes.

That's all I have left.

I have to win for all that. I can't win for myself because I just don't have the motivation to do that. I need a driving force, cause I sure as hell can't fight for my life on my own.

A faint ticking sound beeps in the air and my ears are alert within seconds. Panic sets in and I hastily grab my fallen possessions, the curved wall feeling a lot closer.

And that's when I realise that the tunnel is sucking itself inwards, ready to crush me.

* * *

**Wisteria Arnette, District Twelve Female.**

* * *

My mind blurs as I run faster and faster for the exit. The grinding sound fills the air and I can only think of one thing - getting to the end of a long fucking tunnel. My boots hit the ground hard as I run, the curved walls almost moving with grace inwards, taunting me. It's close, the air limited and my breathing hard, bitter tears hanging on my eyelashes. As I slam my boot down again, I don't hit flat ground, but rather the curvature of the wall.

My heart skips a beat and everything goes into slow motion, my body breaking out into the open space of a conjunction. The walls slam shut and I go to move, feeling my arm almost dead. Panic rises in me and I turn, one of my backpacks crushed and trapped between the structure. I pull again, but it's almost like a trap, with each pull actually drawing me in. My shaky fingers reach for the knife - hanging on the other backpack - before I swipe it across the orange handle. I fall free, the wall cementing shut properly.

My breathing is hard and I clutch my heart, a mixture of anger and fear building up inside of me. Twice now! First, they try to take away my oxygen, and now, they're trying to jam me between two walls, crushing me to death. A certain Gamemaker is determined to kill me. My fingers are still jittery as I try and hook the knife back on the hook.

I need to move things along. I've been here for what seems like hours and not a single kill since the bloodbath. Is that why they're doing this? Setting in some twisted sense of paranoia, just to make us think we have to kill in order to finish this sooner? Because, if that's the answer, then it sure as hell is working. I can't keep looking over my shoulders. I can't allow the paranoia to eat away at my sanity, each tunnel just being another trap to try and make my cannon sound a lot quicker than it should. I start to walk in any direction, constantly snapping my eyes around for any tell-tell signs that something might kill me soon.

When I find someone, I'll kill. I have no other choice. They want entertainment, and I'll have to bring it to them. I can't look at the other tributes and see the faces of children. No, I need to see the faces of someone who deserves to die, has to die, because that's the only way I can will my body to drag that knife across their throat.

I hope Iris isn't watching. The thought that she might see me kill someone makes my stomach churn.

"Maxim, did you want something to eat?"

My heart stops as I hit the next conjunction. I quickly throw myself against a wall, gritting my teeth to hold the pain. Whose Maxim? I search through my mind as hastily as possible, putting faces to names. The District Nine boy. My heart sinks a little, but I can't think like that. I'm not here to be nice, I'm here to hold up a gamble that I recklessly took. I kept to my word, and that includes becoming the Victor. On instinct, I fiddle for the knife, hooking back off the backpack. It shakes in my hand and I steady my breath.

I can do this. I mean, being on my own, my only have a minor connection to Jayden, but simply for our district. Besides that, everyone else is definitely a stranger. A stranger I can kill because they are just a face, and I don't need to know their story.

"Nobody wants to eat your food!" my eyes widen. Who is that? It could be one of his allies. A different voice, though. Three voices. An alliance. That's just perfect. I lower my knife, realising that I can't kill any of these tributes; it'd get me killed just as easily. "I can't stand this m-much longer!"

"Nadia, stop it! You'll attract attentio- where are you going?"

The voice travels but the footsteps hit me first. I try to sink myself further into the shadows, the silver of my knife glinting. I hold my breath and the footsteps stop. "I-I need some s-space!"

"Nadia, it's not safe out there on your own!"

Some more footsteps. "Ju-ust leave me alone f-for a moment!"

Whoever Nadia is, she's stuttering. There's a certain pain in her voice that hits home for me. Nadia. Nadia. District Six. Her ally, he's already dead. The other girl must be Tambryn, the District Nine girl. Yeah, it's that alliance. I gulp hoarsely and squeeze my eyes shut. Please don't be watching, Iris, please don't be watching. The footsteps start again, and for a moment, it's two pairs, not one. Then the second stop and I think that the Nadia girl is abandoning the others, her footsteps becoming harder as I guess she runs. I force myself deeper into the shadows, stray stones on the cement wall digging into my back.

A splash of water causes me to look up at the smaller, lithe girl standing in the middle. I can't see her face, but I know she's pained, and the way she's scrubbing her face with the balls of her hands, my point is proven. The knife twitches in my hand, almost in time to her wavering breaths. A tear slips down my cheek, followed by a noise. I bite my lip instantly but it's too late.

Nadia turns around, her eyes wide. I lose all focus and just lunge forward, knife at the ready.

She doesn't have time to move as the blade sinks into her upper body, in the middle, hopefully her heart. My body convulses as I splutter, tears rolling down my face as Nadia stares at me. Her eyes are dark and glassy, colour slipping away as she falls into my arms. My knees buckle and I fall with her, smaller body breathing slow underneath my touch. I gently rest her head back as her cannon sounds, shaking the walls.

"Nadia?!" the Tambryn girl screams.

My heart leaps to my throat and time rushes at me, hitting me full on. I pull the knife up as the footsteps echo throughout the tunnel.

"Nadia!"

* * *

******Torn by Natalie Imbruglia.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Nadia Halifax, District Six.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**To Inverness Umbrella, I apologise for Nadia's demise. I just didn't know how longer she could hold on whilst suffering from withdrawal and Grey's death in her mind.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Stand out tribute in this chapter?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**I understand that people might think weirdly of this, what with me showing all these tunnels doing different things... but trust me, it's all needed. Each provides a different sense of claustrophobia. Not all tunnels are dangerous, only certain ones. The storm drain is larger tunnel located in the middle of the arena, it's bigger and wider. Any other tunnel could be oxygen-deprivation or closing in, etc.**

**There might even be more tricks ;)**

**So yeah. I'm setting up plots still, it will get more intense and tough.**

**Oh, on that note, I don't know a lot about withdrawal or drug use or anything. I researched and it can have a variety of effects. I was trying to showcase Nadia's withdrawal, possibly worsened by the situation and Grey and everything.**


	11. Hurts Like Heaven

**Hurts Like Heaven.**

_I struggle with the feeling that my life isn't mine._

* * *

**Tambryn Delevingne, District Nine Female.**

* * *

Nadia's on her feet within seconds. The fear seizes my heart and I quickly do the same. Harlow and Maxim are looking around wide-eyed, Nadia just stood there, shaking rapidly.

"Nadia, stop it! You'll attract attentio- where are you going?" Nadia is walking away now, her head lolling around.

I stumble forward blindly, arms about to grab her. Nadia snaps around, eyes almost black and lost. "I-I need some s-space!" she argues back.

"Nadia, it's not safe out there on your own!"

"Ju-ust leave me alone f-for a moment!"

Nadia begins running down the tunnel. I snap my head back at Harlow and Maxim, both left speechless. I'm torn; leaving them behind would compromise everything. Nadia was never important, not as important as Grey or Maxim... but Nadia also was our friend. I can't just abandon her when she's clearly not thinking things through. I run after her, but Nadia is quick, disappearing into the intersection. I freeze, turning back to our smaller allies. I bite my lip gently and stare at them harder, willing for one of them to give me a sign of some sort.

The cannon sounds and my heart hiccups. "Nadia?!" I scream, desperate.

Without thinking, I just run forward. I have no weapon, no fight in me, but Nadia couldn't have been the cannon, she just couldn't... it wouldn't make sense.

"Nadia!"

I come to the pouring light in the intersection, Nadia's body on the floor, water bleeding red around her. The other tribute is lent over her, not showing her face. Hot anger floods through my veins and I clench my fists. I'm not even violent, but she killed Nadia without a care, so quick and effortless, I couldn't stop her. The tribute soon stands up, knife glinting in the light. She turns around, revealing to be Wisteria from District Twelve. I don't think, I just run forward. I have no idea what possesses me, but I punch outwards, the memory of the bloodbath briefly flashing across my mind. Wisteria takes the blow to the stomach, buckling over. I try to avoid my eyes from Nadia's body, focusing on her attacker. Wisteria comes back though quickly, her knife sailing through the air towards me. I suck my stomach in and avoid it as best as possible, hissing when the hot blade cuts through my sweater and marks my skin. I need to disarm her. I don't think, I just aim my hand towards her weapon.

Wisteria gasps when I hit her wrist, forcing the knife from her hand. It falls to the water below and I hastily send a blow into her stomach again before going for the weapon. Wisteria comes back tough, wrapping her hand in my hair. I screech, hearing the footsteps faintly as I'm dragged away from the knife, fingers brushing the silver before I'm yanked away.

Maxim comes into my view, his piercing eyes shining through the light. "Maxim!" I call out, clawing at Wisteria's hand. "Maxim, get the knife!"

Unlike Harlow, Maxim isn't paralysed by Nadia's body. He runs forward and starts searching through the murky, crimson water. Harlow's eyes just stare at Nadia. For a moment, I want to shout at her, but then my min travels back to Wisteria. Wisteria is strong; she's a fighter. I manage to punch her hand a couple of times to release me. I spin over in the water, cupping some of the blood liquid and throwing it upwards into Wisteria's face. It blinds her for a moment and suddenly, Maxim is next to me, knife in his hand, dripping.

I grab it hastily and run forward. Wisteria tries to avoid the blade, but I'm able to cut her sweater open, similar to mine. I try to push her back against the cement wall, cornering her like she did, waiting for Nadia. The confliction arises but I push it away. Fate will play out and I'll be happy with whatever result, as long as it's right. The knife jets into her stomach, and she grunts out weakly. The blood begins to smother my hand, making it sicken and warm. I feel the bile rise in my throat but ignore it, pushing the knife in further until I feel the entire blade pressed inside her body. I hear Harlow cry out behind us, causing me to yank the knife out less smoothly than I planned.

Wisteria crumples to the floor with a dramatic splash. I breathe in and out, red water lapping over my boots. Wisteria lays there, a hand draped over the hole in her stomach.

"T-Tambryn," I hear Maxim's voice, causing me to look around at him. His face is as white as a sheet, but he's not crying. Harlow, however, is. "W-We should go quickly," he suggests, gulping for air. "I don't want to be here anymore."

I nod, just as Wisteria's cannon booms. I hang my head, trying to reassure myself that this was suppose to happen. Nadia ran and got herself killed - fate must've wanted that. I force a sad smile on my face and walk towards the two younger tributes. I gently place my hands on both their shoulders, ushering them towards the backpacks and weapons. I take note of how much I'm actually shaking, smiling sadly to myself still.

I had to do it. She could've found me, Maxim and Harlow. She could've killed him. He's vital. I had to kill her. It was the only option left.

* * *

**Fedora Clos, District One Male.**

* * *

"We should split up."

Everyone turns to Dione's small voice. The moment the words escape her lips, everyone must be thinking the same; over this early? But there's plenty of tributes to hunt down. Except, that's what Dione is on about. She wants to hunt them down more efficiently in smaller groups. I get her reasoning, just the timing is off.

"You want to what?" Magnus says incredulously. "You want us to split up to hunt the other tributes easier?" Dione nods. "Why?"

"If it plays any slower, the Gamemakers will intervene," she counters. That's pretty true; tributes who don't play the game get killed off quicker. "Do you want to be killed before it's really begun?"

I bite my lip to hide the smirk forming. Magnus just stares at her like she's absolutely insane. Laise and Genevieve don't say anything, just watching the action happening. I wonder if they're taking notes? I can imagine the pair of them as the kind of Careers that study their prey before attacking. I used to be the same, but after a while, you know enough to be able to shoot an arrow without an hour preparation before. Laise still needs a kill; we should banish her if she doesn't.

"What do you guys think?" Magnus asks everyone but looks only at me. I watch his darkening eyes; Magnus is wavering under the leadership role. "Fedora?"

I think for a moment. Dione has a good point. I don't need the others to hunt, so how would we split up? Frankly, no-one likes each other enough to spend quality time alone with them. Laise and Genevieve are literally butting heads. Dione is a loner. I don't need no-one either and really, Magnus holds everyone together with weakened fingers. We'll snap, I just know it. I smile.

"We should," I nod. "Splitting up could get rid of the tributes a lot quicker. As Dione said, it's a good move. We could regroup at the Cornucopia, brag about who begged and who fought back," Magnus smiles gruesomely and from behind, I see Dione nodding along, light hair bobbing. "I agree with her completely."

"Okay then," Magnus turns around. "Laise and Genevieve, think you can handle each other long enough to hunt some others down?"

Genevieve's face falls. "No," she seethes. "I'd rather go alone."

"That's not a good idea," he counters softly. "Fine, Genevieve, come with me. Laise, pair up with Dione. Fedora can go alone."

"I'd rather be alone," Dione speaks up. "No offence, but I work better alone."

"Don't we all," I add, causing Dione to glare lightly. "I'm fine on my own."

"So am I," Laise offers. "I can handle myself."

"Coming from the girl without a kill." Genevieve calls her out.

Laise doesn't rise to the occasion, just simply shrugs and pulls her sword closer. Eventually, we all start to walk towards an intersection with three other tunnels. Magnus waves us off, Genevieve on his heel. Dione then parts down another tunnel. Laise looks at me; she'll follow me until another intersection comes up, then she'll split too. We plan to meet up, but who will come back? Laise, Dione and Genevieve, they have nothing tying them to the group. I wouldn't expect them all to return. I will, just for the fact that it's easier to learn about them all.

"Do you trust Dione?" Laise suddenly comes out. I glance up at her as we walk, trying to ignore the fact that whilst she may be taller, I'm just as deadly. "I don't," she pauses. "But we're a team."

"A wolf pack is never perfect," I say. "Everyone is dependent on each other, but also independent. The pack is only as strong as the leader."

"You're calling Magnus weak then." she smirks.

I try to hide away my own smirk. "I never actually said that," I remind her. "We're strong, I believe."

"This totally went off-topic," but we hit the intersection and Laise instantly stops talking. She glances to the right and sighs. "Guess I'll see you back at the golden horn. Hopefully no-one dies," she says with a sickly sweet voice. "Good luck, Fed."

I head down my own tunnel without worry. I keep the bow by my side, an arrow ready to sling out and in within the span of a few seconds. I've been practising, leaving the group on the hot edge. I think it's amusing to toy with them, if only slightly. They trust me enough because I'm the hunter of the group. If I hear something and leap to action, everyone's hearts constrict almost instantly. They're strong - we're strong - but as humans, we're all prone to paranoia, sadness and fear, even the best of us.

I remember the one time my father taught me about wolves. Magnificent creatures, he had called them, telling me that a wolf should never, ever be killed. Their fur was expensive and rare in District One, but that's mainly because of the unspoken code for many hunters. Certain animals were precious and therefore couldn't be killed, morphed into pelts and then sold. My trainer at Kingston Academy, Silver, specifically asked for a wolf pelt and I had to calmly tell her that a wolf was a predator, not a prey for pelt.

My fingers instinctively claw for the necklace around my neck. I fiddle with the tooth of the bear that me and my father tag-teamed to take down. My first kill, spent ove a week learning the animal's patterns before we trailed it back to a cave, trapped. The best thing about being a District One hunter is that the Peacekeepers allow you into the wilderness. Everyone else is banned; hunters get special place because creating pelts is a major part of our trade.

I miss home, come to think of it. The tooth floods me with nostalgia. I miss hunting and my dad, even though I live alone now. Even Platinum despite being nothing but a pain in my ass. My father promised me I could live alone - mainly to get away from Platinum - as well as I still hunted and attended Kingston Academy. If I done those, I could live as I pleased. He was always cool like that.

I reach the end of the tunnel and sniff the air - the smell of bread. My eyes widen. Someone was here only moments ago. I look around as I hear the mechanical whirl. My mind races, but when I see the teeth descend from the ceiling, I'm relieved. In the distance it scoops up one body and then another, water cascading downwards into the dark. Those must have been the two recent victims. Judging by the shadows - mainly the hair - two more females are dead.

That's okay; that leaves the better ones. I close my eyes and trace back to someone in particular... the girl from District Ten. She'd be a perfect target, all alone and isolated. Hunting her down would be a blast. Same with her district partner. Locking my arrow into the bow, I head the opposite direction. I'll find them. I've hunted bigger prey after all, and these are only tributes.

* * *

**Brigan Knoll, District Three Male.**

* * *

The knot in my chest is large as the anthem blares. The lights automatically come on and I'm mesmerized for a moment, wondering how they do that? It must be a large red button, that would be the most obvious answer. The seal appears on the ceiling, large and blurred.

The first face is the girl from District Six, Nadia Halifax. I remember her, I think sadly. All the Careers are still alive, as expected. I glance at Bliss and she smiles sadly. The next face is the girl from District Twelve, Wisteria Arnette. I sigh, head dropping. With two more dead, I'm one stop closer to going home and having to leave Bliss and Lux. It's clear I'm not wanted; Lux's really closed-off towards me. The situation reminds me of Alder and Adra, with Bliss as Alder and Lux as Adra. One leads all happy whilst the other follows, quiet but loyal. I still play the same part - on the edge of an alliance with feeling.

I miss home. Bitterly, I think most people do. It's hard with just one winner but twenty-four lives at stake. No-one chances are fair; guaranteed the Gamemakers are altering things to play with the tributes.

Bliss stands up abruptly and I look at her as she closes the gap. Lux looks almost hurt, but he blinks it away and stares off into the distance.

"Hey," I snap my eyes back at her. "Did you want me to sit with you for a second?"

I shrug my shoulders, but Bliss takes her seat anyway. Without a word, she leans forward, her breath ghosting over my ear.

"If I tell you something, you can't say anything to Lux, okay?" I gulp thickly and Bliss blows a little air deep into my ear. "Promise me, Brigan," I nod hastily. "Okay. Lux tried to kiss me."

My eyes widen and I go to pull away from her, but she quickly locks her arms on my shoulders and forces me to stay with her. I stare at her for a second, eyes wavering behind the building tears. I gulp and allow her to resume the position.

"H-He forced himself on me. I told him no, but he wouldn't a-accept it. He-e kissed me and then acted as if everything was normal. Br-rigan, you can't say anything."

I swallow my heart, eyeing up Lux. He doesn't look in our direction, still avoiding eye contact awkwardly. "B-But I don't understand..."

"There's nothing to understand, Brigan," she whispers, her voice wavering. "I-I just wanted you to know. I needed to tell someone."

I nod slowly. Lux wouldn't do that, would he? I stare at him over her shoulder, unable to bring the pieces together. How could he? It doesn't seem to be in his nature. I always imagined Lux to be kind and generous, the kind of person that would give his life for someone else. Then again, they say that the sweetest of packages can hide the ugliest of truths. I guess Lux is the epitome of that saying. I gulp again, throat feeling dry. Being with the Careers wouldn't have been this stressful. They work like a machine, whereas this alliance seems to crumble, Bliss being the target of all the hits. First Jayden and now Lux. I look at her eyes, water still building on the edge. I need to protect her now. I have no choice, I can't abandon her.

"I won't tell anyone, I-I promise," I say truthfully. "But if he does something, you have to tell me," I pause, running my tongue across my lips. "You have to tell me straightaway."

"I will, I promise too," she smiles sadly. "If Lux ever asks you what we talked about, just tell him that you were upset or something. He can't know."

I nod again, my head light with the amount I've been doing it. For Bliss, I'll keep her secret and keep an eye on Lux. If he does anything, I'll have to do it - I'll have to confront him. It might lead to a fight. It might lead to a death. Either way, I'll have to do it, I can't just sit back and watch helplessly. Bliss took me in when I was alone... I owe it to her. I grab her hand comfortingly, causing her to smile once more.

"Er, guys, is er, is everything okay?" Lux suddenly speaks, sending a wave of fire through my veins. I glance over Bliss' shifting form. "You look upset, Bliss." he frowns.

"I'm fine," she falsely smiles. "Brigan is just a little sad, right?" I look to her and nod hurriedly. "Yeah. He's missing home."

"Aren't we all," he mumbles. "We have each other though."

I bite down on my lip to stop from frowning hard. If he did that to Bliss, I can't trust a single word he says. Luckily, I don't speak to him much. I'm here for Bliss. He's here for Bliss. As far as I'm concerned, me and him don't even have to speak. Yeah, it'd be better that way. Bliss stands up and grabs her backpack and bloodied knife. We both snap in, grabbing our own stuff. Clearly we're moving.

"Where we heading?" Lux asks.

"Anywhere else," she says. "I think moving is the better option. The bars are beginning to freak me out."

I glance in that direction. The difference is, behind the bars, there are no lights whatsoever. Just shadows, looming and smothering. It's unnerving. Anything could be hidden in the darkness. The lights cut off just at the bars, showering them in the after light, but leaving everything behind shrouded in mystery. It's almost like a horror scene mapped out for us. It's dangerous, but it's the only place to really hide. Just then, I hear a noise. My heart freezes and Bliss spins around, blonde hair whipping into her face.

"What was that?" she sounds scared.

I jab a shaky finger towards the darkness. "In there," I mutter. "It came from there."

"Move. Now."

Doesn't have to say it twice. Whatever is hiding, it's dangerous. A trap or a Mutt, it'll be out soon.

Same goes for Lux.

* * *

**Maxim Bauer, District Nine Male.**

* * *

I can only picture Tambryn killing the girl. It should bother me, but it doesn't, well, not as much as it should. Harlow cried; why didn't I? I think I can't. I feel tired of emotions. Maybe I'm heartless? But I got sad when Grey died. Now Nadia is gone. My allies are dropping like flies and I can't even cry. I'm not used to seeing people die, but it's not affecting me as much as I thought it would. When Tambryn commanded for that knife, I didn't think twice, I just leapt for the water.

It could be positive; it could mean that I can make it further. It gives me hope, welling in my chest.

Harlow sniffs. I look at her, my eyes softening. She's older but she's broken. She lost her ally, though she never said how it happened. Maybe she witnessed it? That would explain her timid nature. Tambryn seems a little hardened now. Her eyes are locked in front as we walk at the same pace, fists clenched.

"We should rest," she suggests. Harlow almost slams into my back and I turn around back at her. I offer a sad smile, a hopeful sorry for acting cold towards her. I didn't mean to. She just stares at me with watery eyes as Tambryn suddenly comes into view. "Do you guys agree?"

"Y-You killed her..." Harlow mumbles.

"I had to, I had no other choice. She killed Nadia. She would've killed us soon enough."

Harlow allows a tear or two to slide down. "Y-You just done it... just k-killed her in cold blood."

"It was self-defense, Harlow," Tambryn's voice is almost gritty now, like she's agitated. "If I allowed her to live, she would've snuck up on us. A knife would be in your heart and you would've been dead."

I thought she believed in fate? If she does, then fate would not have done that. Fate played out the way it did. I don't know why I'm arguing with myself; Tambryn knows her beliefs better than I do. I shouldn't say anything but I can see the frustration in Tambryn's eyes and the sadness in Harlow's.

"You just... you just murdered her."

"That's the idea of this all!" Tambryn almost shouts. "We're suppose to kill, Harlow, and I just saved you by doing it myself. Fate led me down there to protect you guys. I-I had no other choice but to kill her and I'd kill again!"

"You're a murderer!" Harlow cries. "A murderer! You're just like the Careers, killing for the sake of killing. You didn't have to do it, you could of just took us and ran!"

"Fate wanted me to do it!"

"Fate doesn't exist!"

My eyes widen, the urge to be sucked into the shadows at an all time high. It's like the bloodbath all over again; chaotic and suffocating. I look to Harlow, pink-faced and panting, silent tears smearing her cheeks. Tambryn is basically the same without the tears. I swallow thickly and clasp my hands together, my back hitting the curved wall. Since when was I backing up? Must be instinct. The air is thick with tension and I feel like my throat is closing up, tightening, squeezing.

"You said you don't believe in it, but I do," Tambryn grits out. She takes a breath, calming herself down. "I'm just saying that what is done is done. I can't turn back time now," Harlow mumbles something, but no-one catches it. I can see the confliction on her face, wrinkles making her seem aged and weathered. Harlow just aged within seconds. "What did you say? You want to speak your mind, so go ahead."

Harlow's confliction rises again. I swallow hard. Harlow isn't acting that timid anymore, except, she's obviously got something on her mind. Harlow steps back so that the shadows ghost one side of her face.

"Fate doesn't exist..."

"People are allowed their own beliefs," Tambryn counters. "I'm sorry if you didn't like what I did. I'm sorry for pressuring you only moments ago into a debate. But, there's no need to discount my views on the world."

Harlow nods slowly, using a shaky hand to move some strands of light brown hair from her eyes. "I-I-I'm sorry too..."

The tension in the air is still thick. It's like the smog that used to smother over some of District Nine, from the factories crushing the grain down. I snap my eyes between Tambryn and Harlow, waiting for the other to speak. I knew Harlow took Tambryn's actions hard - from the way she cried, and I just knew that it wasn't over Nadia or the girl - but I never expected her to call out Tambryn's views. Then again, I'm doing the same, just in silence. I bite down on my lip, the sweet tang of blood hitting the tip of my tongue. It makes me instantly gag, drawing their attentions to me.

"Please don't fight," I quickly say, using my time well. "It just isn't worth it," I look at Tambryn. "You done what you had to do, we're thankful for that," I look to Harlow, nose pinched red. "And you're upset, it's okay. I am too."

There's a tight pause as Harlow looks at me. "You're not crying though."

"I'm not, no," it feels like a blow to the stomach, sending a spew of bile into my throat. Why aren't I crying? "But it's a hard thing to witness."

"We need to be like a group. Stick together rather than pulling each other apart." Tambryn suggests.

"She's r-right," Harlow hiccups. My heart goes out to her; I suspect she's had a tougher time than me and Tambryn have. We've lost two allies, I witnessed neither, and I suspect Harlow watched her ally die. "I apologise for my actions. I didn't mean to do it."

We all stay quiet for a while. After some awkward silence, Tambryn fishes some beef jerky from her bag and passes it around. Before Harlow takes a bite, she mumbles something to herself and then bites. It's peculiar, but I'm not about to call her out on it, just because I want things to be more calm. Everyone else is against us, I don't want inner fighting to deal with as well. It's hard enough as it is; I want to cry, but it feels like something is seizing my tear ducts, forcing them shut. I'll miss Nadia, but it's something I can't deal with right now.

Sooner or later, I'll have to deal with Harlow dying. I can't even think about Tambryn in that sense. For me? Well, I'm not there just yet, I haven't given up hope. If I'm truly becoming heartless, it'll help me return home, and that's all I really want.

* * *

**Nerys West, District Five Female.**

* * *

Finch is attractive. I knew that from the day I approached him. His muscles bulge from underneath his sweater - despite how baggy it is - and those eyes are able to pierce straight into my soul, and then travel down to between my legs. It's a good thing, having a sexy person as an ally. It's one of the only reasons I picked him. That, and I just knew he'd be going far. He isn't bloodbath material.

"I wonder if any of the Careers are facing problems," I muse. "Remember when you expected me to join them, just because I was a volunteer?"

Finch looks up and shrugs nonchalantly. "You looked like the rest of the psychos."

"I should be offended, but I'll let you off, cutie," I smirk, leaning back slightly against the wall. The bars next to me rattle slightly, but from what? There isn't any breeze or anything. "I just hope that they are falling apart quickly, tearing at the seams, so to speak," he nods and I almost frown. "You don't talk much, do you?"

I like that about him though. The words that depart his lips are either sarcastic or cynical. You can't have an idle conversation with him, because small talk isn't his thing. I'm surprised he has never, ever asked me about why I volunteered. I guess he doesn't really care. I like it that way, just like before. It's hard to come up with a reason when you only know half of the answer yourself. I was about to be arrested - about to be executed after the reaping, no doubt, if they ever got the witnesses to come forward - and if I'm facing one death sentence, why not just do this? It's not to save one of the little brats, oh no, it's just to prolong it. If I have to die, I'd rather go out in style, you know?

"There's nothing to really say," he admits. "If there was, I'd be talking."

My eyes darken as I stare at him, hunched over. I always liked the ones that openly rejected me. It just... encouraged me, you could say. I've always liked a challenge and Finch is practically calling me to accept it. He won't be able to resist. Imagine the chaos in the Capitol over me and Finch, down and dirty in the sewers?

"I suppose you're right," I try to hide the growl in my voice. I can practically feel the darkness shadowing my heart and mind. "I'm just not fond of the silence," I admit truthfully. "It always remind me of home."

"You don't like home?" he asks, craning his neck upwards, the light running over his face in waves. I suppress another growl.

"Never have. After my mother's death, there was nothing but silence." I can feel the sadness crushing me. She's the one person who I loved. "Everything crumbled after that."

"It's weird to see an emotional side to you," Finch suddenly says. "But I'm sorry for your loss. Losing someone you love sucks." he adds quietly.

The noise makes me rise to my feet. Finch is aware, too, grabbing onto the backpack with all our stuff. The intensity overwhelms me, blackening everything. I hold onto reality for a moment, just staring at the open space in front of us, concealed by shadows. I think it's footsteps, I'm not too sure. It's disturbing, and for once, I can see why the other people freaked out a lot when I emerged on them. Something about the unknown is unnerving. Finch coughs, hoping to draw the person out.

The snap of leather stretches the air, and from the shadow, I see the whip dotted with sharp, metal points coming at us. I barely have enough time to move, the tip scratching across my face. The sting makes me grit my teeth and I fall to the floor, water smothering me. The stomps and water come about and I quickly look up, a leather boot coming for my face. I manage to avoid the kick, grappling the boot with my hand. Finch comes out of nowhere, grabbing the shadow and yanking it forward into the light. I see a sparkle of blonde hair as I sweep my fist out, coinciding with Finch pushing her down. The girl is slammed down onto the floor, revealing her identity as the District One female.

A Career. The blood in my veins runs hot now.

I leap upwards, Finch pressing the girl downwards. Her whip is abandoned and I pick it up. "Move Finch," I say with an edge to my voice. Finch moves, the girl rolls over, but I snap the whip like she did. It hits her back and she screeches. "Attacking us like you think you can win. Finch, get me the taser," Finch is stunned for a moment. "Finch, now!"

Finch moves and I snap the whip again, sharp point drawing blood on her forehead. Finch is by my side within seconds, taser in hand. I snap the whip again. Using some string in my boot, I awkwardly tie it around the button, sparking the blue electricity, keeping it there all the time. The girl scrambles but she's weakened.

"Up on the bars," I command. "It won't affect us."

Finch's breath hitches in his throat next to me. "How do you know?" he asks. "You haven't tested it out!"

"Trust me!"

Finch scrambles away, backpack in hand. I step back, whip in one hand and the taser in the other. I snap the whip again, bathing in the pleasure of her screams. The others didn't scream but that wasn't the point of my lurking. I edge back further and further until my back hits the metal bars. Finch better be on them; I'm not finished with him just yet. I climb up, the girl moving weakly on the floor.

I throw the electrified taser into the water.

The moment it touches the liquid, the girl's screams become blood-curdling. The electricity teases her body, making her convulse and writhe. I squeeze my eyes shut, the smell of burnt hair and skin invading my nose and making me want to gag. Finch even does for a moment. The electricity snaps against the water, echoing against the cemented walls. Her screams soon die down, my memory at an all time high.

Her cannon follows within seconds. One Career dead, four more to kill.

"That was pure l-luck it didn't kill us." Finch stutters and I turn my head, his face almost white.

"The bars might be metal, but there's something different about them," I admit. "I noticed it after some staring. Should've put more faith in me."

"Sorry, but it's hard to trust someone in a game made to kill twenty-three people." he responds sarcastically.

I glance at the girl's dead body. Her blonde hair covers her face but I'm almost sure her skin is blackened or at least darkened. It worked; I guess something good came from being arrested that one time. A life-changing decision helped me kill someone. How cool.

* * *

**Jayden Perona, District Twelve Male.**

* * *

"Here," I hand Darek the packet of dried fruit and nuts. He takes it cautiously and I smile. "I'm not exactly going to poison you or anything."

"Sorry," he mumbles.

"You don't have to apologise either," I laugh lightly, watching him pluck some food into his mouth. "We're allies now, so we trust each other, right?"

He nods and the ghost of a smile flashes across his lips. "I guess you're right. I do trust you." his voice is low.

"And I trust you," I grin. "So, eat up, I think we need to get moving soon, I-"

My words are toppled over by a cannon. A small yelp escapes my lips, the shock making my heart race. Who died? The horrid thought of Bliss killing Lux plays out, a gruesome scene of her turning on him. He's too nice. Too nice to be manipulated. To think, she could've been manipulating me the whole time, trying to wrap me around her tiny finger. The anthem soon plays out afterwords and we all look to the ceiling. My heart skips a beat and I glance at Darek. He doesn't have anyone else to lose. I have quite a few. Knowing Wisteria is dead has already left a numbing sensation in my stomach.

The face is the Career girl from District One. My lips twitch into a smile. One down, only four more.

"She was the one who killed Helene," Darek mumbles. I quickly look at him, my eyes wide. "S-She wrapped her whip around Helene's n-neck and strangled her," a tear slips down his cheek and my heart goes out to him and beyond. "I-I was powerless."

The lights go away, pushing us back into darkness. There aren't that many tributes left. Double-digits still, just not as many. I gulp thickly as Darek looks blankly at the opposite wall.

"W-We should move," I decide. "It could have happened nearby, we're better to move," the words are literally pouring out of my mouth. Everything is to play for and everything is overwhelming me. District Twelve will be placing all of their hopes on me and I just cannot handle the idea of it. It was easier to just worry about myself. "Darek, come on."

Darek stands up, but quickly wobbles. I'm there in seconds, grabbing onto his wrist to stop him from falling. He squeaks, the rush hitting him as I literally have to drag him back onto his feet. He looks surprised, a blush creeping on his face. I instantly laugh, the pink tint to his cheeks matching the red circles around his eyes. He'll get over it, I think positively.

"Try not to trip over yourself." I laugh again, unable to hold myself.

"Shut up," he punches my arm swiftly, and for a moment, I can only think of how much strength Darek actually holds. You wouldn't believe it, but I'm sure that Darek could handle himself on his own, he'd just probably want to be with someone. "I-I don't know what happened."

"Excuses, excuses," I tease, grabbing onto the backpack and knife I managed to save. I wanted a slingshot, but I didn't pick one up... I was too busy watching Bliss shape into the monster she was hiding. Darek soon grabs his stuff, cudgel and all. "Which way?"

Darek quickly looks. "I'll follow your lead."

I smirk, twisting around. "I like being in control. Okay, this way, forward!"

I hear Darek laugh as we start to walk. He keeps behind me close, the sound of his footsteps echoing mine. He practised this; he matches my footsteps so that we sound like one person, rather than two, just to give us an advantage over the other tributes. Darek came up with it. As I said, people might not see it, but Darek is more prepared than he lets on. I'm kind of glad I accidentally ran into him and he punched me. I had no idea what do after abandoning Bliss and Lux; I was never going to make it on my own. Darek literally was my saviour. He'll never know.

We turn the corner, a pool of lime light soon hitting us. My heart hiccups for a second before I realise where we are.

The Cornucopia stands as broad as ever, shimmering underneath the neon light. Darek almost slams into my back, before he turns to see the same sight.

What's happening?

That's when a singular shadow emerges from the mouth of the horn. I briefly lose all thoughts as it turns out to be the male from District Two; one of his allies only died moments ago. I hold my breath, expecting more to pour out, but it's only him. Darek goes rigid by my side and I can practically hear his heartbeat in my own ears. Everything seems to flash by my eyes, even the smell of the sweet shop I spent most of my childhood in, working away. Everything just slams into me at once and I stagger to the side.

So this is what happens when they say your life flashes before your eyes... I grip onto the knife harder, Darek's cudgel moving on the outskirts of my view. The Career seems to flash something large, which turns out to be a claymore, the handle gripped in his hand. His eyes are placid, a contrast to the way his knuckles are turning white, even from this distance.

"Together." Darek whispers, and my hopes flutter into the air.

"Together."

Because if I have to die, I'd rather die alongside someone who I can trust. It's much better than dying alone.

* * *

******Hurts Like Heaven by Coldplay.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Wisteria Arnette, District Twelve.**

******Dione Martell, District One.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Teddy, Wisteria was different. She was good, but I had no idea where to take her.**

**Sammy, again, like Wisteria, I had no idea where to actually take her character... sorry.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Stand out tribute in this chapter?**_

_**Any idea on who will definitely not make the final ten?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Oh, something is behind the bars. What could it be everyoneee? If you know me by now, I like to do these things, just to bring about a sense of urgency. I'm awesome like that.**

**Things are slowing picking up. Hold on, it will become worse and worse. Besides that, I don't have much to say. This chapter held a decent amount of plot driving, as well as setting up future stuff. Yeah. I literally have nothing worth saying...**

**Oh, I've been reading this book called _Dark Inside by Jeyn Roberts _and really, it's good inspiration for murderous ideas. If anyone else has read it, come talk to me and let's fangirl together.**


	12. Everybody Hurts

**Everybody Hurts.**

_When you think you've had too much of this life, well hang on._

* * *

**Darek Jacquard, District Eight Male.**

* * *

I keep my eye on the Career as he just stares at us. It's unnerving, to be honest, but I can't let up. This is the same tribute that held me back from saving Helene. Anger flushes inside of my body and I grip the cudgel harder. Jayden steps forward. What is he doing? He turns around and nods curtly, a million different answers swarming my brain. That doesn't help me know what he's doing.

"Boys," the Career speaks. I look back to him, allowing the anger to flood my system. I beat him once, I can do it again. "I didn't expect to see either of you two here."

"Sorry about that. I've always been one to barge through personal boundaries." Jayden counters with a smirk.

The Career smirks as well. It's tighter, forced, and his eyes mirror something that I can't quite work out. Then, as quick as a flash, he runs forward.

"Split!" Jayden screams as he runs one way. I stumble for a moment before running the opposite direction, circling the bloodbath area. I don't think things through, my mind clouded and confused. I try to hold onto the anger but it feels like it's slipping between my fingers, replaced with the need to save Jayden. To do the one thing I couldn't do for Helene. Footsteps don't follow me. I break, snapping my head around. The Career lunges forward with his claymore but Jayden ducks. I'm not conflicted in the slightest; I just charge forward.

I don't hear the other footsteps until a flash of silver catches me off-guard. I barely have enough time to avoid it, the silver just inches from my chest. I spin around to see the girl from District Four, rapier held tight. His ally! I avoid the next stab of her curt sword, kicking my leg out instead into her knee. It's a cheap move, but causes her to stumble enough for me to swing the cudgel straight for her head. There's not enough strength in my swing but it collides and she yelps, flying to the floor.

With adrenaline running high, I turn and continue to run. Jayden is backed up in a corner. Not for much longer.

I swing the cudgel again, a battle cry escaping my lips. Jayden has enough time to duck and the cudgel slams into the male's side. He grunts, but unlike the girl, he doesn't fall over. He just stumbles. Jayden takes advantage by kicking his boot out, causing the boy to spill on the floor.

Small breaths escape my lips and I stare at Jayden, a sense of familiarity and comfort settling in my heart. One look at Jayden and suddenly, everything feels better.

The boy is on his feet in seconds, towering over me as he stabs out with his claymore. The sword goes between me and Jayden, split apart. Jayden nods then. In time, I kick alongside Jayden's punch, both aiming for his chest and face. It catches him off-guard enough to gain an advantage. I take a quick glance in the direction of the District Four female, but she's not there.

Jayden grips onto my hand, bringing me to reality. The touch is soft and kind but then he's yanking me down to the ground, the rapier flying over our heads. A sense of urgency stabs me in the chest and I punch the girl's ankle. She kicks out, though, and the blow connects with my shoulder, sending a wave of pain through my body and causing me to scream. Jayden is up as fast as possible to try and protect me, but then the male Career is as quick and forcing Jayden back down to the floor.

It hits me then. We are both going to die. I look at Jayden's face, arms pinned behind his back and the brute sat on top of him. Another kick flies into my shoulder and I scream.

"Please don't!" Jayden screams, broken. "D-Don't kill him!"

"This is the idea of it all," the male states calmly. "We can't let you live otherwise, how would we win?" another kick into my shoulder and I scream. Definitely not dislocated or broken, but one hell of a bruise. "We don't enjoy this, you know."

"Could've f-fooled me!"

Jayden's eyes meet mine and they're watery, the brown pupils highlighted from the bright green light. It floods me with comfort again and I manage to bring back some strength. Using my good arm, I shoot a fist up into the girl's stomach. She buckles over for a moment and I grab my cudgel, swinging it carelessly upwards. I hear the crack as it hits her face and she screams, flying backwards. The distraction is enough for Jayden to overcome his captor.

I force myself up onto my feet as Jayden takes a punch to the chin. I swing the cudgel again, avoiding Jayden but smacking the Career wildly.

Jayden grabs my hand again, his knife abandoned. He leads me towards the Cornucopia, our hands locked. I want to smile at the contact. He hastily grabs the first backpack he sees, before dragging me towards one of the tunnels. I can run perfectly by myself, but I'm not going to argue against his help. Jayden reminds me too much of Jacob and Jacob reminds me of home and as long as I can see that connection, I can keep sane.

I hear the snap of an arrow being loaded. District One must have arrived. It shoots towards us but we're in the shadows, ducking into the curve and allowing the pointed object to fly past us, plopping into the water up ahead.

We're halfway down the tunnel when a stitch causes Jayden to slow down. Doing sports at school, I'm probably more athletic than Jayden. Even with a bad shoulder, I can sprint and pump my arms for a while. Jayden turns around, his face contorted into hurt.

"J-Jayden?" I stutter.

He quickly wraps his arms around me and literally squeezes me in the bear-hug. I let out a soft, wavered chuckle and Jayden slams his hand onto my back, much like what Jacob did.

"Don-n't do that again, okay? Don't t-try and save me," he stammers. "I don't want you to get hurt."

It hits me then. Sadness overloads my system but I nod. "Same here."

And how can that work when one of us must die?

* * *

**Genevieve Arlen, District Four Female.**

* * *

"Well, I think your plan didn't work." Fedora states the obvious.

I see Magnus' extended hand but choose to ignore it, standing up myself. I instantly stumble on the spot, a sticky feeling on my forehead. I put my hand to my head, bringing it back red. Great, I'm bleeding. I swallow down the bile rising in my stomach and force myself to stare at a spot in the distance. White stars explode in my vision but I can't black out now. That District Eight boy can swing his cudgel pretty hard. One smack in the head and I was down for a few minutes. The annoyance is pushed away by anger. That's twice now. Everyone seems to be able to overpower me.

"I can't believe that didn't work," Magnus complains as he stands up on wobbly legs. "I could've sworn that you surprising them would be good enough to kill one of them," he pauses. "Where were you, Fed?"

"I was nearby. I was hunting down a particular tribute but then I noticed that Dione is dead. Has anyone else or are we just not bothered?"

"Not bothered," Magnus states and I nod in tune to his words, head swimming. "Everyone has to die at some point."

"Indeed." Fedora confirms.

For some reason, there's a heated tension filling the distance. Magnus is right; everyone has to die at some point, but he makes it sound like he knows exactly what to do and that it'll be him. I could be the last one left. Fedora as well. There's nothing to say that Magnus can actually hold onto the leadership and win. He's strong but he's also easily overpowered, much like me. I quickly pick up my rapier and move forward to the others.

"Now what?" Magnus asks.

"I'm sorry, but aren't you the leader?" I say. "I mean, you're suppose to decide. There's only four of us now."

"Three, actually," Fedora cuts in. "Has anyone noticed that Laise isn't here? Or is that something we're all not bothered about again?"

Huh. I knew Laise wasn't here, but I didn't believe it. Part of me feels betrayed; as much as I've been mean to Laise and how I cannot trust her, I never expected her to walk. We had a friendship going and she messed it up. I at least expected her to try harder to ammend it, despite all the reservations I threw at her. If she wanted it hard enough, she would've worked harder. Laise is nothing but a coward clearly.

"Looks like I missed the party," I turn around to Laise's voice and my heart both sinks and rises at the same time, a confusing mixture that doesn't help me out whatsoever. Her eyes meet mine and light up a little, but I'm quick to look away. "What actually happened? I started coming back the moment I knew Dione was dead." she asks.

"Me and Genevieve came back here after finding nothing," he begins. "Then whilst we were waiting, the boys from District Eight and District Twelve came out. At first, I was gonna handle them on my own, but then I told Genevieve to wait in the shadows and jump then," he pauses and looks at me. "But, Genevieve didn't get a kill and neither did I. Pretty strong tributes."

"Genevieve, you're bleeding."

"I know that," I deadpan, snapping my eyes at Laise. "He swung the cudgel like a mad man and hit me in the head," Laise comes forward, her hand extended. "I'm fine." I snap.

She retreats instantly and I can see Magnus smirking from the corner. Of course he'd be happy; he caused this between us by teasing me about Lux. Lux is my district partner and whilst we're not allies, he's a good kid. A good kid that got teased for not being like the rest of us. He didn't deserve it; but I didn't stop it or anything. I just don't think he deserves to be hunted by the people that made most of his life hell. Particularly by someone like Magnus or Laise.

"What's the plan then?" Laise asks. Her eyes are no longer soft but rather hardened.

"Guess we go and hunt again?" Magnus says, but his voice doesn't sound so confident.

I smirk as Magnus picks up his abandoned claymore. With our weapons and backpacks, we head towards the tunnel, in our usual order; Magnus up front, Fedora behind, the rest of us in the middle. Laise walks idly by my side and I instantly can feel the twine of disgust growing inside of me, except this time, it's not so intense or strong. It's actually lightened up for her, which I'm surprised about. As long as we don't find Lux, I'll be okay... it might even disappear.

"You should get a bandage on that," Laise suggests. Magnus and Fedora can probably hear, but they don't say anything. "Here, I have one," she fumbles in her backpack and pulls out a white strip of bandage. It reminds me of Lux almost instantly and the anger quickly appears. "Here, take it."

"Leave me alone." I hiss, hands shaking.

But Laise doesn't. She forces the bandage into my hand and quickly pulls out towards Fedora, just to miss out on me snapping her head off. I look down at my shaking hand and the item. It's stupid to hold against it; I pull back the strip and place it against my head, feeling it stick. At least it'll stop the bleeding now. If I find that tribute, I'll have him. The District Twelve boy has clearly abandoned Lux and the girl from District Three, therefore, I'll have him too.

A soft ding in the air causes Magnus to stop at the intersection. With the four tunnels around us, we quickly all stand around, waiting for the parachute. We know the sound, all Careers do. The white cotton flutters towards Laise and lands at her boot. She bends over and picks it up, popping open the canister. She doesn't read out whatever is on it, and from looking at Magnus, I note down the accusing glare. Laise slips the piece of paper into her boot and the items in her backpack. I don't see it; Laise keeps her back to us the whole time.

"What was that then? From Amity?" Magnus is quick to ask.

She turns around. "Yes, if you must know, and no, it's none of your business because it was for me." she says calmly.

"What is it?" Magnus says again, his voice increasing in power. "We're all a team, you can share it with us. Right guys?"

Me and Fedora don't say anything. This is between district partners. "As I said, it's none of your business."

The tension is quick to come back. With everything building, it won't be long before everything combusts. I can imagine it all now, and the rate it's going, it could even be in the next hour or so. I'll be prepared. I hold onto the rapier tighter, prepared for whatever may come.

* * *

**Harlow Bellamy, District Eleven Female.**

* * *

_God, please forgive Tambryn. She didn't mean to do it. She won't repent - she doesn't believe in you - but I do, God. I can repent for her. Won't you let me repent for her?_

_God, why does this happen? Why do you let children kill each other? Why do you take the lives of people that don't deserve to die?_

_Do I deserve to die, God?_

"Harlow, are you okay?" I snap open my eyes at Maxim's voice. "You look sad." he adds.

"I was thinking about something, that's all," I force a small smile, but it's hard when my emotions are clouding everything inside my mind and heart. Everything I believe in could be shattered at any moment and that's hard to grasp when you can't speak to anyone who could understand. My faith is being shaken and I can't get the help I need to hold it together. "Where's Tambryn?"

"She's gone for a little walk," he says as he sits down. "She needed a break, I think," there's a tight pause before he sighs. "I think the death is affecting her more than she lets on."

"She didn't have to kill her," I whisper. "We could have just run."

"She believes she was helping us. That killing the District Twelve girl was the only way to protect us."

"But that's not a good enough excuse to actually take a life, Maxim." my voice wavers and I hold back the burning sting in my eyes.

"I'm not defending her, Harlow," he counters with a wry smile under the light. "It hit us all, yeah, but Tambryn was the one who actually did. It's probably affecting her more than you and me. We witnessed it whereas Tambryn actually done the action. We can't make this about us."

I nod along, knowing where he's going. He's trying to defuse the tension that won't go away since what happened. If I could tell them - if I did tell them - then maybe they'd understand where I'm coming from. They wouldn't know about God - not a lot of people do anymore - but I could explain it to them. Yeah, I could explain it all to them. I might never see Darren again, so it wouldn't matter. My parents... they're probably watching, and if they recognise me after the many years, they're no doubt encouraging me to spread the word about God. I'm caught between a rock and a hard place. I can't betray my parents who, whilst I haven't seen for years, are still my parents. But, I also can't betray Darren, whose been looking after me for as long as I've been without parents.

"Maxim, can I tell you something?" I say before I can think about the consequences. I quickly tuck all the negative thoughts into the back of my mind and focus on my aim. I take Maxim's hand gently into mine and he looks up with those large, bright eyes.

"Sure. I'm here to talk, Harlow, and if I've ever treated you wrong, I'm sorry for it."

"It's okay," I wave it away. "But this is serious. Maxim... I don't believe in fate."

He chuckles a little. "Yeah, we've covered that already. It's nothing new."

"No, I mean, I don't believe in fate because... because I believe in something else," his face darkens with wide eyes. I can feel his grip trying to slide from my hand, but I need to say it. "I believe in God. God is someone who created the world and in turn, he created Panem. I pray to him. I ask him for help and guidance. Fate doesn't do anything because God already has things planned out for us all."

"I-" Maxim's mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air. "I d-don't know what to say. I'm sorry?"

"It's nothing to be sorry about," I tone my voice down to a whisper and lean closer. "But you can't tell Tambryn. Killing is a sin and sends you to Hell. You know Hell, right?" he nods slowly. It's just a myth to many people, but it's something that Panem can't quite stamp out. It's a tale, a story, and they never disappear. "That's why I can't forgive her. I can only repent for her, which was what I was doing beforehand."

"W-Why?" he asks, face pale. He doesn't sound distressed, just genuinely confused. I understand that. "Why tell me now?"

"Cause..." I don't actually know. I never had a reason; I went with my gut instincts and that was trying to get them to understand. "I want you to know why I am who I am, and if Tambryn can talk about her beliefs, I should be allowed, right?"

"I guess..." he mumbles, unsure.

Tambryn's boots come into my hearing and I quickly let go of Maxim's hand. I can't tell Tambryn; she's too abrupt and pushy. I'm already possibly in deep water by telling Maxim, but if I never return, Darren can't punish me. He can't lock me away in the closet and leave me there for a few days. I might die; God might want me up in Heaven with him. Darren can't punish me and the parents I did have could now be proud. But I can't deal with an argument.

"Hey guys," she says softly. "Harlow, I owe you a massive apology," she guides me up with her hand and Maxim's eyes follow me. Not accusing, but rather wary, as if something might happen. Tambryn wraps me in a hug and I melt into the contact that I rarely get. "I don't want this tension. I want us to be okay."

"So do I." I close my eyes quickly.

_Please God, let me repent for her. She doesn't deserve Hell._

Tambryn lets me go and Maxim stands up. He smiles awkwardly and hands Tambryn her kaiser blade and backpack.

"Harlow, do you dye your hair?" my heart clenches and I can feel my legs shaking. I turn to Tambryn. "Your hair. Do you dye it? Your roots look... white almost."

I gulp. My eyes widen and I have to force myself to bring them back down; the secret is close to being exposed. I shake my head. "M-Must be the light or something."

Tambryn shrugs it away. She puts her arm over Maxim's shoulders and guides him down the tunnel. I follow much more slower, heart palpitating harder and harder.

_God, don't let them find out. Please. I don't want Darren to get in trouble. I've repented for him enough. He's becoming a believer, God. He doesn't deserve Hell now. He's sorry, he's always been sorry, but he's ill, God, and he needs me. My parents don't and never have done. Darren needs me._

I wait and wait for some sort of sign. Maybe a splash of water or a breaking sound. I prayed before, and Tambryn turned up. I prayed before, and God spared me but not Savannah. Praying has always helped me because I believe in him and he helps me no matter what. Yet, nothing happens. I feel my heart breaking slowly as realisation hits me. What if he can't save me? What if he's not real? No, no, I can't think like that. He'll help me when the time comes.

_Ahem._

* * *

**Fedora Clos, District One Male.**

* * *

Laise is being awfully secretive. I watch her move back towards me as we continue to walk. Being up there at the front, she either gets interrogated by Magnus who can sniff the conspiracy that Laise must be doing, or she gets the cold shoulder by Genevieve. Back here with me, she can embrace silence. That doesn't mean I don't suspect her of the same things, though, I just won't voice it out against her.

We turn the next corner, still silent. The tunnels are a maze. It's hard to find any of the other tributes. So far, finding the District Ten girl or her district partner has been hard. Those two are probably the biggest competitors besides the Careers. I don't want a weak kill. I want a tough one. I killed a bear and ever since then, anything small has left me with a gaping hole of disappointment in my chest. I'm good enough to kill anyone, I believe, but being cocky will only cause a larger downfall against me. That's why I won't voice my opinions to the others unless it's important; anything I say can be used against me.

"Another dead end," Magnus groans. I look past Genevieve's form to see the iron grid of bars. "Everywhere we go, there's a dead end. Can't find no tributes."

"We're clearly the worst hunters that the Hunger Games has ever seen," Laise laughs, but I doubt she's serious. "Can't bring down a single tribute."

"Everyone else has had a kill actually," Genevieve pipes up. She turns around, the white bandage making her almost glow in the shadows she's under. "Even Dione, and she's already dead." she adds.

"As far as we know Gene, Laise could be conspiring against us," Magnus then joins in. He puts one hand across his chest, the other gripping the claymore. He looks Laise directly down and I smirk, stepping slightly to Laise's side. Both of them against her isn't fair; but, if they attack, I can shoot them both down within a split second. "After all, she's keeping secrets from the rest of her team."

"It was my parachute and I should be allowed to do whatever I want with it." she hisses defensively.

"It's true," I step in, feeling the need to stand up for her. "Parachutes are for each of us, not the team. We're a team to an extent, but still individuals. Magnus, you of all people should know that," then I look at Genevieve. "After all, that was one of the many reasons for rejecting your district partner. A team to extent; here for being useful, not our districts."

"How does that relate to Laise keeping secrets, Fed?" Genevieve scowls.

"It does, if you think about. Her parachute was for her. We might be a team, but we're still lone fighters just banded together. Your district partner was rejected because he couldn't bring anything to the table. Laise is here because she can. Therefore, she's worked for that parachute and shouldn't have to share it with the rest of us because we're not really a team," I pause, feeling the high of being right. "Magnus said we were, but we're not."

"Doesn't give her the right. Are you not paranoid about it, Fedora?" Magnus comes in.

"Not particularly," I admit honestly. I can feel Laise looking down at me, eyes boring into my mind. "It's her business. If it's against us, we just kill her, it's not exactly hard to comprehend."

Genevieve and Magnus seem to take the answer. They just glare at the pair of us, but for me, I know Magnus' stare is weaker. He puts too much faith in me. We have our little pact of sticking together in order to triumphant. But, in reality, I don't work for or with anyone. I'm a lone hunter. Magnus can think what he likes; whatever we'll help keep his mind stress-free. Magnus walks pass us followed by Genevieve, who coldly shoulders Laise out of the way.

"Thank you," Laise says quietly once they've begun walking. "Didn't think you cared so much."

"I don't. But they were being ridiculous, holding a grudge about teams in a game meant for one."

I walk away from Laise and follow the others. She soon follows. We turn more corners, still not finding any other tributes. If the others don't get a kill, I'm almost sure that they'll begin to turn on each other. There's only so long a Career alliance can be around each other before backstabbing and arguments become the norm and a once stable alliance falls in tatters. We soon enter a larger, taller tunnel.

"What's this?"

"This looks familiar..." Genevieve responds.

"What does every sewer have?" Magnus asks. There's something about his voice that's very knowingly.

Genevieve is quiet. The shadows means I can't read her face, but she must be thinking Magnus' questions. The sound of rushing water cuts the silence like a knife and I'm almost positive that Genevieve screams out. She starts running and for a moment, confusion keeps me locked. This reminds me of when we would have to react if a certain animal - like a mountain lion - would fight back. I start running, my heart thudding against my ribcage. The sound of moving boots and splashing water drowns out my ears but we keep moving. I feel Laise's shoulder knock into me, causing me to stumble. Chaos developes fast as we all run. We fade in and out of the light, and as far as I can tell, there's no tunnels. It's a straight path. I see a flash of brown hair and blonde - Laise and Genevieve - right next to each other.

That's when I feel the wind against the back of my neck. I'm the smallest and clearly not as fast as the others. The water hits me first, slamming into my back. I'm thrown off my feet straightaway. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling the water surround me. It floods into my mouth and scorches my throat. I strain my hearing when I hear a low, deeper scream - Magnus - followed by a shrill one and then another - Laise and Genevieve - before I'm instantly submerged. My body tumbles in the water and I lose grip of my bow, whilst the backpack and sheath is ripped from my shoulder. My legs go over my head, tossing and being thrown around by the pressure of the moving water. I open my eyes for a brief moment before my head collides with the curve of the wall, making my head instantly ache and sting.

The world blurs at the edges as the water twists and turns me with the strength of the current. My whole body feels light as I feel the raging waters calm down.

It slowly settles and I fall to my knees on the hard, watery ground, panting and spluttering hard. I choke and gag, bringing up the bile and water. My head pulsates and I bring shaky fingers towards it, bringing back blood and grime.

"I-I-Is everyone okay?" I hear Magnus' voice but can't bring myself to speak back.

"Don't touch me!"

I look up, my vision blurry. I see Magnus moving, collecting abandoned backpacks and weapons that were ripped from us. I see a flicker of blonde hair and brown hair, tugging and fighting.

"Genevieve, c-calm down!"

"Get the fuck off me! Leave me alone!"

I force myself onto my feet and look at the scene. Genevieve is shaking violently, wet and pale faced. She's breathing heavily and Laise is trying to comfort her, but with each sweet gesture, Genevieve recoils like she's been burned. I look around aimlessly, finding my bow and scattered arrows. I collect them, ignoring Magnus and Laise trying to calm Genevieve down. As I collect the final arrow, I just know we aren't going to last much longer as a group. Someone is going to combust, but I'll be ready to put the dog down before they turn rabid.

* * *

**Bliss Promenade, District Three Female.**

* * *

This is all too perfect. Brigan and Lux sit either side of me, neither daring to say a word. Lux won't speak to Brigan because he fears about spilling our romance to him, since he doesn't want Brigan to feel isolated and like the tribute on the outside like he did with his previous alliance. Brigan won't speak to Lux because I made him promise not to, since Lux forced himself on me. My only problem now is that things are becoming boring. With both boys not speaking, it doesn't make an interest plot, does it?

I think hard as the silence suffocates us. I could try and trick Lux into kissing me, letting Brigan witness, just to cause an argument? Maybe Lux will kill Brigan. Then, I could kill Lux and take a different twist. Oh! I could be the romantic that fell hopelessly in love with someone who hid who he really was. Yes, I'd be the girl whose heart got shattered by a murderer hidden beneath the surfaces. I should've listened to Brigan before Lux slit his throat. It'd be perfect!

"I'm hungry," I say aimlessly, starting the plan in motion. "Does either of you have anything to eat?" I ask.

I look to Brigan first. His eyes are wide, as if he can't believe I'd ask Lux after everything, so I sadly smile it away. I hear Lux go into his backpack and watch Brigan do the same. I smile when no-one looks. I'd even rub my hands together but that'd be stereotypical.

"I have some berries." Lux quickly shoots in. I turn to him, running my fingers lightly over his hand. "You can have them all, if you want. I have plenty of food."

"At home, I made a machine that would grind down the food into juice... it exploded on the first try, but I did do it... for a few seconds," Brigan adds, but I'm staring at Lux. Maybe that's why. Lux's eyes widen in confusion, but I take matters into my own hands, running my tongue across my bottom lip as I pop a berry between my teeth, letting the juices escape. "I-I can make it again, one day."

I turn to Brigan. "That's brilliant, sweetie."

"Real clever, Brigan." Lux adds. Brigan instantly flinches and looks at me with pleading eyes. I've truly worried him. Good. Time to actually make his fear a reality... somehow. Maybe Brigan wants me away from Lux? So every moment I spend with Lux could increase Brigan's paranoia. That's brilliant knowledge.

"I think we should move soon," I say, smiling sadly at Brigan once more. "I have a strong fear that we might be found. Should someone scout out?"

"I-I can do it?" Brigan suggests. "Does anyone want to come with me?"

"It's okay." I stress, using my eyes to send some sort of telepathy at him. He needs to remember to keep it under wraps. He nods shakily, before walking down the tunnel with a knife lodged in his hand.

Instantly - when I know he has blended in the shadows - I turn around and press my lips to Lux's surprised ones. He squeaks, but quickly melts into the action. I slide my lips against his and guide his hands to my hips. We move slowly and chaste, and I even smile against his lips. I have to plan the timing just perfectly. If Brigan comes back too early, the whole plot just crumbles and that means pages upon pages I have to scrap in order to salvage everything else. Then, I'll have to find someone else. No, just no, this has to go great. I keep the kiss short and pull away, Lux's eyes dark with lust.

"Wow." he breathes.

"Yeah," I smirk. "I better go with Brigan quickly. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you more."

I stand up, dragging my fingers through his hair. I start to walk into the shadows until I'm away from him as well. When I do, I quickly force the tears to form and leave my eyes. I run a hand through my hair to shake it up a little, before dragging my nails across my face lightly, an attempt to turn it into a raw pink. When I feel ready, I run faster, forcing small whimpers past my lips. I almost slam into Brigan at the intersection.

"Bliss! What's wrong?" his voice is strained and exasperated.

I look up through my hair, hoping he can see the tears underneath the light. His eyes widen once more and he quickly wraps me into a brief, short hug. I allow myself the few seconds of enjoyment before the task comes back to the front of my mind. I pull away, sniffing. "He d-did it again, Lux. I-I don't know what to d-do."

"We need to get rid of him," he almost growls. "This isn't fair on you. I just, I can't believe that someone like Lux would do that! A-Are you sure that you aren't reading it all wrong, Bliss?" he pauses, playing with his thumb. "I mean, it could be a big misunderstanding."

I tilt my head since Brigan isn't looking. Really? No, this isn't going to work. You need to do as you're suppose to, Brigan. I'm the puppeteer and you're my puppet. "N-No," I whimper. "I-I don't know what to do-o-o."

"I'll keep a better eye on him. I won't leave you alone with him."

No! "B-But we can't spend a-all our time together," I quickly think up. "J-Just..."

I didn't think this far ahead. How did I plan for this to come to blows? I didn't! I can't rewrite it now... I need to think of something and fast. Lux and Brigan need to come to heads. I didn't them to fight over me, with one of them dying in the process but without either secret being blown. I should've thought this through more. Internally, I berate myself for being stupid and reckless. Externally, though, I just cry and lean my head on Brigan's shoulder. He comforts me, but not in the way I need.

This plot is going to fall to pieces if I don't sort it out. I need to take a more active role, forcing the situations on them. I need too, otherwise my book won't be good enough.

* * *

******Everybody Hurts by R.E.M.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******No deaths.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Stand out tribute in this chapter?**_

_**Your thoughts on any alliances that might make or break?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**No deaths this chapter. With this ends "no death chapters!" though. Every chapter after this will contain one, two, three or even four deaths. So be prepared in wanting updates because you're unwittingly killing more ;D**

**Nah, seriously, this chapter was fun and helped me increase plots and thus.**

**Yeah, I have nothing much to say really. It's just fun to hurt them, hahaha.**


	13. Nobody's Home

**Nobody's Home.**

_She's losing her mind. She's falling behind._

* * *

**Laise Revilyn, District Two Female.**

* * *

Genevieve's head continues to bleed as we walk. I gave her a bandage and the water literally ripped it from her scalp. Then, of course, she freaked out and it wasn't so necessary and you think, being from District Four where water is probably more common than anywhere else, she'd be fine with it; but clearly not. My eyebrows furrow and I fall back to Fedora, a task that seems to happen a lot lately. Magnus is overbearing and Genevieve continues to give me the evil eye. At least with Fedora, I get welcomed silence.

With the backpack on my shoulder, I feel content. They don't have a right to demand what I collected from Amity; it was addressed to me and is only for me.

Still, it's nice to know that Amity has my best interests at heart, despite Magnus' life being on the line as well. Well, he is Ajax's problem technically. He's more than welcome to give Magnus a parachute, I wouldn't question or demand to see it; guess that shows the difference between us. We grew up together, were in the same class even, but miles apart in everything else. I can't trust him and he can't trust me. That's the way it has to be in order to win.

Then I see Genevieve and I find myself feeling guilty. He really, really screwed that up for me. I had an alliance with her; me and Genevieve, we could've teamed up against the rest of them. Dione killed herself, but Magnus and Fedora aren't as stupid as she was. They stand out more than she ever could.

We turn the next tunnel and I swallow dry. When should I use it? Amity never gave me an answer for that. She handed me the item - told me that a big player in the Capitol was spending all of their money on me - but never said when. I could have a specific time to use it, I might not. Then again, who would be handed me something? I've not that pretty and in these clothes, I could pass for a male. Oh. They could be into that kind of thing since, well, the Capitol isn't all that sane.

"We haven't found any tributes in ages," Magnus practically whines. I didn't count him as bloodthirsty but with time ticking, we could become boring. "Splitting up was a good idea but it didn't work exactly, did it?" he looks at Genevieve over his shoulder but she pays no attention towards him. "Yeah, this is becoming slow."

He's playing up the leader too much. He talks and expects us to listen, yet asks us our thoughts. He's trying to be both strong and determined, as well as looking fair and unbiased. It isn't going to work - his layers are peeling away, showing us all what he's actually like, and that's manipulative. He might not see it like that, but I do. And I've never liked those kind of people.

"We could split up again but as you said, it proved invaluable," Fedora comments. Magnus seems to grunt in response, but Fedora carries on. "It feels like we're walking around in circles; maybe someone else should take the lead?"

Magnus spins around. The tension quickly appears and Genevieve is trapped between the two; I suddenly want to grab her and pull her into the shadows away from what might happen. Fedora's aim is impeccable.

"Why say it like that, man?" Magnus asks. "You make it sound like I'm not good at my job," I smirk, remembering mine and Fedora's brief conversation over that topic. "If you want, you can lead but you keep choosing to stay at the back."

"We need a tail. Every hunter uses them. Prey can sneak up from behind, and the best shooter should be there to catch them. It's more logical than putting the best forward." he states clearly, and although the sentence should seem arrogant, it feels very... Fedora, and that's without much emotion.

"Well then, don't complain," Magnus concludes. "Genevieve, Laise? Either of you want to lead since I'm doing such a bad job?"

"I'm good thanks." I respond. I glance at the back of Genevieve's head. You can see her withdraw into herself, the water having freaked her out much more than any of us expected, being a water-baby and all. She shrugs slightly instead and Magnus continues to walk.

I step forward, internally encouraging myself to be braver. Genevieve was once as close to a friend I could have had in here, and I don't have many of those.

"Genevieve, are you okay?" I ask lightly. Her eyes snap to mine accusingly, and I can feel Fedora's eyes boring into my skull from behind.

"Do I look okay?" she spits. Her face is pale, even under the brightest white light. She was always pale, but now she looks sickly. Her face lightens for some reason and I look away, expecting a tongue-lashing; I'm met with silence instead. "I-I'm sorry."

That's different. "What for?" I ask.

"Snapping at you," she relents. Her voice holds bitterness and is hardened, but it's lighter than before and each minor step is still an improvement. "I shouldn't always be s-so hard, not when you aren't to me," she looks at her, eyes watery. "I'm sorry for that and that alone though. You still threatened Lux's life and I can't forgive you for that."

Seriously? I find it hard to believe that she holds this much attention and care for a person that she didn't fight harder for. There surely must be something else, otherwise this seems a tad over the top. I don't say nothing though; I'm not doing one step forward and two back. I simply shrug it away and stay by her side, seeing as she doesn't bark at me to leave her alone this time. Clearly the water was a good idea from the Gamemakers - they calmed Genevieve down.

As we turn the next corner, Magnus suddenly stops. I go to say something, but he forces himself against the curved wall. Everyone does so, keeping our feet quiet. Magnus seems to peer around the corner and then returns, a wicked grin stretched out on his lips. I instantly know what he's found and for a moment, my heart races before slowing down.

It's not the time, not yet. I need to finish some things first.

"What is it?" I whisper harshly at him.

"A tribute," he mimes. "All on her lonesome," he looks to the side at the shortest, most deadliest member of our pack. "Fedora, keep an ear out. We'll wait and catch her off-guard."

He nods and we all wait patiently, pressed up against the curved wall. Hopefully, the Gamemakers won't find us boring; I have something in my backpack that'll bring some life back to us.

* * *

**Piper Oxalis, District Ten Female.**

* * *

I always hated what I had to resort to. I never, ever felt proud in being someone's personal mistress, but I had to. I always feared that people would judge me because of my choices - because of my predicament - but they didn't. I had Sunny and Macaulay, so sweet and kind but just as troubled. I feel bad for Finch, since I have a personal connection with both of the Victors. He doesn't, well, at least not that I know of.

Another soft ding alerts me to look up and a small smile forms on my face. Frankly, a part of me should feel guilty that I'm getting all of the sponsors and Finch might be getting nothing. Instead, though, I can't help but feel gratitude towards Sunny for keeping me safe. I'm on my own and I need all the help I can get. I push back the backpack full to the brim of dried fruit and nuts, leaning across the gap as the white parachute sinks into the dark waters.

I snatch the canister up and pop it open. More food, some water, and a small packet of tablets once more.

_These will help with anxiety and any other problems you haven't mentioned -S_

My heart constricts. The sound of that is so vague and ominous, there's only one real answer that pounds against my skull. Sunny knows... somehow. I haven't told anyone. Absolutely no-one. Sunny has always been kind to me, not to mention Macaulay's not-so-hidden crush. I have the advantage compared to Finch and obviously, unlimited access to the entire District Ten funds. I put the small canteen of water and food into the backpack, dropping the pills into my hand.

It's true; I've been suffering with some kind of illness. It only happens every now and then, a tight, acidic clench in my stomach that makes me want to purge my body of everything. Just the thought makes me want to be sick.

I slowly pop the pills in my mouth - one by one - before chomping them down. An instant relief settles in my stomach and I suddenly feel so content.

I do believe that the wretched man had be rigged. Something tells me that it's a twisted way of an abortion. By dying in here, all of his sordid secrets, reputation and bastard child die as well. He'll be a clean man whilst I'll be nothing more than a used woman.

My ears alert to the sound of watery footsteps. My eyes widen, straining against the darkness and light, as if they are seemingly blurred together. I try to focus on my ears, but the watery noise suddenly vanishes. I hold my breath, concentrating on everything around me. The tunnel should provide some sort of echo.

No, it must be my mind. Paranoia setting in. It's been how many days? I don't know. Nowadays, the faces are flashed in the sky not long after they die. It's almost like they want to let us know that this person has died, therefore, your chances have increased but also became a lot harder. You're one step closer to possibly winning but also one step closer to actually dying, which, in many cases, is the more likely. Lambs bred and fed to the system.

Lambs. I miss District Ten, come to think of it. I don't have anything left there, but the hole in my heart only reminds me that I had a poor life but with a good enough future ahead of me. Now, if I become Victor, I can provide for the baby. I could still live above the tavern - The Floating Rib - and maybe Lucky could help out with looking after the little beansprout. I mean, I've never thought of Lucky that way - more of a brother than a lover - but he'd be a great substitute uncle. I could rebuild everything that my parents broke.

The watery footsteps make my ears perk up again. It's no coincidence. Someone is out there.

My hand quickly but silently picks up my quarterstaff. The backpack sits there idly; if I need to run, it has to be abandoned. It'll weigh me down too much. I slowly rise to my feet, carefully not to make any noise. They're reckless but I'm not.

Then, it hits me. I'm too close to the corner. I messed up there - I should of gone down further. I step forward, making sure to not bring my feet out of the water, but rather just drag it across. I reach the end and my heart quickens when I hear the soft sound of someone whispering. It's faint, harsh, but then another voice joins the conversation and I lose all feeling and thoughts. An alliance, something I couldn't take the luxury of risking.

I don't think. I just turn around and run, not caring for the noise.

The two must catch on, because suddenly, there are other footsteps slapping against the water. I run as fast as I can, using what little energy I have. I hear the notch of an arrow and some string and my mind becomes slightly cloudy. The Careers!

It shoots and I'm forced to duck out the way. The metal arrowhead slices across my shoulder though, and I scream out in pain. It throws me off-balance and I struggle to compose myself, someone in their wolf pack running harder and faster, leaving the slapping sounds behind. The sound of the string is louder this time, proving my theory that the short hunter is personally chasing me down. I freak, thinking that the only way to escape him and his arrows is to fight back. I spin around hastily, bringing one half of the quarterstaff around with me. I see a flash of his short, blonde hair before the side of the quarterstaff whips into his face. It sends him to the side, forcing his bow down. I turn around and begin to run again, but then a hand clamps onto my wounded shoulder and I have to bite down on my tongue in order to not scream or alert anyone else.

I grab the hand, wretching it off of me. Turning, I send the quarterstaff into his stomach, ensuring that he grunts in pain as he buckles over. I bring my knee into his face and he crumples.

Too late. The other Careers are here. They stare at me, shortstuff in the way, and have no distance weapons to take me out with. I stagger backwards, turn, and run hard once more. They give chase and my heart palpitates, the sickness and bile rising in me once more. I want to cradle my stomach, but I have to keep moving as fast as possible to beat them.

"Move!" a voice bellows.

My heart clenches as the whiz of something shoots through the air. I don't have time to move this time and the arrow lands directly in my back. I howl this time, the pain far too much. I stagger and trip, forcing myself to stay up. If I fall down, I might as well give up. I continue to move, but another pain wrecks my body as a second arrow joins. It slows me down and white stars explode in my vision. I keep moving, willing and forcing myself, but each step is heavier and sluggish, slowing me down. I soon fall to my knees and then on my hands, dragging myself through the water. My eyelids slip open and closed, but I can't give in. I can't. I can't... I can't die. I can't lose my... my baby...

A faint buzz in my ears drowns every other noise out. I see the shadow of a figure skimming the water. I do, however, catch the twinge of the string and an arrow being loaded. A lump forms in my throat, making breathing hard. I still have the others; this is just overkill now. Bitter tears lean heavily on my eyelashes and I force myself over, just to face my killer. The arrows either fall out or snap, but I just can't bring myself to care about anything else but the child I let down. I'll look him dead in the eye. I drag a weak hand on top of my stomach and hold it there, closing my eyes and trying not to openly weep and look weak, just as the shooter lets it go; the arrow lands directly in my chest, around my heart.

When I hear my cannon in the distance, I'm almost sure I hear another, more softer version, for the child that never got a chance.

Two cannons for two lives destroyed.

I'm sorry I failed you, my darling.

* * *

**Magnus Croft, District Two Male.**

* * *

By the time the rest of us have caught up, Fedora stands over her body, inspecting his work. I don't notice his eyes or anything, but it takes a while for him to look away. I never imagined him as feral but he's only backing up my point that Fedora truly is the one to beat. I clench my jaw as Fedora turns around.

"District Ten is down and out," he states calmly. "I want her district partner now."

"Why was she so important?" Laise asks, voice soft. "You went out of your way to take her down. Three arrows is a bit excessive, Fed." she adds mockingly despite a weak voice.

"She had a high score so she was high game. Her district partner was the same, and if I'm not mistaken, he's allied himself with the female from District Five with her own high score. Them three are the biggest competitors alongside us and I would like to take them down to further our advances." he says it so neutral, it makes him more unnerving and insane than if he was cackling or wickedly laughing.

"That's twisted but clever. I like it." I ensure to add, watching Fedora warily.

He leans over and plucks the arrow from her chest, murky waters turning red around her. Fedora calmly places the bloody arrow back into his satchel, before stepping over her slightly moving body. I follow, Laise and Genevieve suddenly pals and staying behind. Normally, when I force them together, they fight but not now. That's as unnerving as Fedora being a silent psychopath.

Everything could unravel in a matter of minutes. Fedora is acting stronger than normal, showing his worth to the group when really, I was hoping that Fedora wouldn't grow. Oh, but he has, and I can feel my nerves just twitching at the thought that our inner-alliance is as good as dead and I'll have to turn on Fedora sooner than planned. Fedora is right, after all, for targeting the higher points and technically, stronger tributes. Above me is only him. I'm levelled with Laise, but I'm not worried about that; Genevieve should take her out, and she won't be a problem to kill either. In the end, I'll be the lone Career, my alliance having exploded from the inside out.

I'm not a master. I didn't plan it all before I came here. No, I observed and learned, working out the better dynamics. If anything, Dione dying early was a blessing in disguise since I didn't have anything planned for her whatsoever.

I jog up front to catch up to Fedora. "Hey."

Fedora notes my appearance and simply nods.

"Look, I was wondering on that inner alliance," I whisper that part, ensuring neither Laise nor Genevieve hear. "Are you still up for it?"

"I'm up for anything that'll push me further and benefit my time here," he answers, and I see another rare trace of a smirk on his face. "So your answer is yes, Magnus, I am."

"That's good," I say without purpose. "Just cause Laise and Genevieve have patched things up. They might become a team themselves and I wanted you to know that I have your back," using my spare hand, I scratch the back of my neck. "You understand?"

"Yes," he responds. "We need to sit down and plan."

"Last time we sat, we were almost wiped out by the storm drain."

"We were standing actually. But yes, I get your point, but we need to plan out our next step."

"Do you have any plans?" I ask, and he stops. "Take that as a yes?"

"No. You're our leader, you're suppose to come up with the plans that lead us all to the final spots." still no emotion, but I can almost detect the faint smell of sarcasm laced beneath the lack of emotions.

"Well then, I just have the right plan for us," my mind whirls and I have to focus on what to think about. Keeping on tabs with the deaths in the sky, I know where to go and where to strike. "Genevieve, Laise, come here quick, we need to do something," they come over abnormally quiet, Genevieve still looking as pale and shaken as she did before. "I was thinking that we need to take out some alliances, right?"

"Well, I did wonder why we were here, but carry on." Laise rolls her eyes.

I don't let her attitude bother me in the slightest. Her bitter sweetness is grating if anything. "Which alliances are left?" I ask.

They each look like it's the most stupid question I've ever asked. "There's the District Ten male and his partner, as Fedora kindly said early." Laise adds, the cynic in her clear.

"The District Nine pair, now that they've lost their counterparts," I quickly add. "As well as District Eight and District Twelve." I ensure to look at Genevieve on that part, reminding her of her failure. She doesn't care though, arms still cradling her body.

"Then you have the add-ons, who might have joined any of them."

"Oh, we forgot the most important," Fedora begins. I look to him, his face twitched into a semi-smirk. "Lux and his ally, the girl from District Three."

Genevieve's eyes don't flare. I stare harder, trying to decipher why she isn't biting back, but she looks lost and hurt, almost afraid. Laise, however, goes slightly pale. Their friendship isn't allowed; Fedora knows that, and that's why he's adding about Lux. If we're to be divided, I need to keep Laise and Genevieve on the edge. Genevieve isn't responding right, but Laise is literally dancing without us pulling the strings.

"We'll take the district partners, District Nine, since we can wipe the entire district from a shot at glory" Fedora suddenly adds and I watch Laise's face smooth in relief. I hide my smirk as best as possible. "Then we'll find District Ten and Five, taking them both out too. Then the boys, and that'll be District Eight and Twelve from the shot as well. We'll leave Lux till last," he pauses and looks at me. "Agreed on wiping them out as whole?"

"Agreed." I smile happily.

* * *

**Lux Solaris, District Four Male.**

* * *

The face of the District Ten female lights up the tunnel, before returning to the darkness and with that, the awkward silence. Brigan hasn't said a word. I hand him food and he accepts it silently. I give him water, and he takes it without even looking me in the eye. Bliss just sits there awkwardly at the side, leaving me to deal with Brigan's constant brooding over something.

Everything, well nothing actually, feels right about this. I don't know what happened when they went away, but it's left the alliance uneasy.

I pick up the courage to speak. "Bliss," she hums and looks up, eyes twinkling and smile starting and every thought just disappears. "Did, did you want some more food?"

"No thank you," she blushes, voice small and timid. "But thank you."

"What about you Brigan?" I look at him hopeful, wanting to build some sort of friendship. He doesn't look up. "Brigan. Did you want something?"

"No." he replies curtly.

I want us to be friends so that I can scream about me and Bliss. It was hard to ever think about a relationship back in District Four. The girls mainly trained and fought, and whilst many were hot in my opinion, the option was never there because I was banished and bullied for not being like them. Each female had a male counterpart that they enjoyed to spend company with. I could've found a girl who didn't train - sweet and kind, like my mother - but it would've been hard. I became notorious for being the medic rather than the fighter, and in a Career district, it's something unusual. Not everyone non-trainee gets bullied, but it was another step to being a loser.

The best fighter, Markos, often tormented me through the years, having lived nearby. I was smaller and weaker compared to him. When people started picking up training, I didn't, and that became another reason to make me the laughing stock of a smaller community further in-land from the sea. Toyed and tormented, I ended up here because I wasn't like everyone else.

Now, I'm a tribute amongst others.

And that budding friendship I wanted with Brigan - to in turn help me and Bliss become closer - has withered and I don't even know why. Part of me wants to ask Bliss as to why Brigan is acting the way he is, but I feel like that would force her to take sides and in turn, force a strain on the group. I don't want to put that kind of pressure on Bliss. Then, the other half just wishes that we never met Brigan and Bliss didn't feel the need to save her district partner from being alone. I don't blame her and I don't blame him. I just want to know what Brigan's problem with me is.

"Are we just staying here?" I ask.

"If you want." Bliss replies timidly, but her eyes are alight.

I swallow thickly and nod, looking over at Brigan. "What do you think Brigan?"

"Whatever." he shrugs nonchalantly.

"Okay," I bite down gently on my bottom lip and look away. It can't be like this forever. He needs to either tell me or suck it up. "D-Do you, do you have a problem with me?"

Bliss' head snaps up and Brigan is suddenly more alert. What is going on? I carefully watch Bliss who seems to go deathly pale, whilst Brigan looks like he might explode. He looks at me, eyes wide and shocked. He doesn't say anything though and I guess he doesn't need to; the actions of my words have stirred up something that I'm not allowed to know.

"What are you keeping from me?" I ask again, my voice hardened and flat. My heart plummets down into my stomach and I feel even more sick than before. "You two are hiding something from me and I deserve to know what it is," I pause, glancing at Bliss. "Bliss?"

Her eyes are snapping back and forth and her skin is just growing lighter and lighter. "N-Nothing."

"Lies," I say quietly, feeling betrayed. My eyes are growing watery but I hold on. "That is nothing but lies. What is it? What aren't you telling me?" I look at Brigan, frantic. "Well? Tell me!"

Brigan's face flashes red and his eyes ablaze. He leaps up onto his feet, forehead wrinkled and face contorted into suppressed rage. "You forced yourself on her!"

"Brigan!" Bliss squeals.

I stand up, the chaos drumming against my skull and making my head hurt. "W-What?" I question him. "I've never forced myself on her!"

"You forced yourself on her!" Brigan practically screams. "She said no and you didn't listen!"

"Brigan! You prom-mised!" Bliss sounds desperate. I snap my glare at her, but the moment I take in her face, tears leak down my face and everything crumbles inside of me. The last piece of me just breaks and I feel hollow.

"I can't hold it in anymore Bliss! He shouldn't have done it t-to you!" Brigan yells.

Bliss is across the gap within an instance. Her hand reacts, slapping across Brigan's cheek. The sound makes me wince but I'm in there like a shot, grabbing her wrist and yanking her back. She yelps as Brigan returns to reality. He's crestfallen, red mark and teary-eyed.

"Bliss!" I scream myself, throat raw and hurt. "Why did you do that?"

She doesn't answer. Her body is vibrating, even under my touch. Red faced and quivering lip, Bliss wretches herself from my grip and staggers back, staring at me and Brigan like we're nothing but monsters. She brings her hand to her chest and staggers back some more. I step forward, the urge to protect her returning, but she spins around and dashes into the shadows, feet echoing against the water, leaving me heartbroken.

I don't know what to say or do. I look to Brigan for confirmation, but he just holds onto his raw cheek and weeps silently.

"I... I never forced myself on her." I admit quietly, not wanting Brigan to leave as well.

He looks at me and nods weakly, his lips quivering. Bliss has played us. She's well and truly played us and now there's no going back. Something inside of me stirs, and I quickly encase Brigan into a hug. Bliss is gone and now it's just us; I don't know how we'll cope without her, seeing as she brought us all together.

Somewhere inside of me, the pieces finally lay in my stomach, shattered beyond repair. She played me like a fiddle. I was her toy, and I fell for her charms. I liked her; I almost loved her. She took all of that and spat it back in my face. She betrayed and Brigan. Why? That's all I can ask myself as I grip onto Brigan tighter. Why play us? What did we do wrong to deserve that?

All of a sudden, I miss Jayden. I should have left with him. He clearly knew something that I didn't; all what Bliss said, about Jayden being a coward and a traitor, they were all lies because Jayden knew and we didn't. I close my eyes, remembering him trying to save me from the bloodbath. I should have gone. I shouldn't have bothered trying to get Bliss out of there safe.

I was a fool.

* * *

**Finch Caraway, District Ten Male.**

* * *

Piper is dead. I feel sad about it, but we were never close. It's sad knowing that she got killed or simply died, and now District Ten are piling their hopes on me; except Piper's family, who mourn for their dead child.

Nerys stuffs a piece of beef jerky under my nose and I instantly flinch.

I can't stomach the sight of meat anymore. I want to vomit when I see or smell it. I didn't imagine that it'd be like this; the constant sight of District One's electrocuted and mangled body laid out across my mind mockingly.

"You sure? It's only meat, Finch, and I like my meat," Nerys purrs. I shake my head and she shrugs, downing the food in one large gulp. "You know, it wasn't all that bad and I was the one who killed her, considering all things," I shrug. "Oh come on."

"It's not that." I lie, well, half-lie.

"Then what? Tell me."

I imagined killing would be easy. Back in District Ten, killing was something that all the kids did when they got older, because of the abattoirs and slaughter houses and butchers. Animals being electrocuted or cut open or even strangled was common because people needed food and District Ten needed to meet their quota for Capitol meat. Yet, it still makes my stomach uneasy. It never bothered me in District Ten; then again, no-one ever killed a human back there.

"I can't her image out of my head, that's all." I shrug again.

That's true. I really can't. I don't feel remorseful or sad that she's dead - she volunteered knowing she could die, like a twisted death wish - but Nerys was more than extreme. And, in all honesty, it's left me doubting our alliance. She protected me, great for her and me you know, but she done it careless; at one point when she whipped the girl, it looked like she enjoyed it, like she got some kind of rush from it. It disturbed me to say the least and then she electrocuted her. Of all the ways to kill her, and she done the most torturous, bad-smelling and worse one she could find. She punished the girl and it doesn't settle well with me.

Yet, being with Nerys, it's comforting. I forgot what it's like to have proper human contact. When everything went wrong, when everyone practically shunned me, it threw me through a loop. The ones that stayed ended up talking about me behind my back - so it became hard for me to open up, so I done the opposite instead - whilst the ones that left openly mocked me, which caused me to be shelter myself cause I couldn't trust anyone.

I had my close friend Celeste wasn't enough but I couldn't afford to be picky.

"Look, I'm sorry," Nerys grows agitated. "I did it to save us and now you seem to want to guilt-trip me," she turns her head now, eyes darkened. "I did it for you."

I hold my gaze, not willing to give in. I was pushed around a lot and I had to stand up to them. I won't go down that same route once more. "I get that, but I'm allowed to feel something, Nerys. I'm allowed to feel sick and not forget her decaying body because I witnessed it. I'm here in the Hunger Games, I can't avoid it." I seethe, more angry than I thought I was.

Her eyes instantly lighten. "As I said, I'm sorry. Next time I'll just stab her or something- oh wait, we don't have a knife, just a taser, whip and knuckle dusters," she switches back to hidden but boiling anger. "I'm trying really hard to hold things together, Finch, so please do not push me."

That only agitates me more. People used to treat me bad but if I reacted, I was suddenly wrong. Wrong for what? Wrong for standing up for myself? I bite down my tongue to stop myself from saying something I'd only regret. I like being with Nerys. I like being in company. This doesn't make me angry one bit. No, of course it doesn't, it doesn't at all.

"Sorry." I force out quietly, internally holding back anger and annoyance.

"Thank you. That's all I ask. So, please, can you cheer up before I claw my eyes out?" she sighs harshly. "I just want to move on from all of this and you brooding doesn't help me do that."

I'm sorry for not being what you want. Just like the others. Just like every other person in my life, expecting me to be something new for them because being me isn't good enough. My mind spins and I can't find any kind of words to say to her. I'm looking too much into it, that's all. I'm trying to search for reasons to be annoyed at Nerys for killing someone. But why? I'd kill someone if I had to; and Nerys had to. Maybe it's because of the sadistic pleasure she took from it. I glance in her direction, eyes twitching as she ignites her taser.

I force myself to cheer up though. I need to move on from it, it's not even that big of a deal. Another reason why I hate everything about me.

"Should we start moving?" I ask, standing up without Nerys' answer. She asked me last time and changed her mind; I won't let her walk over me. She wants this alliance, then she needs to know it's a two-way street for us both. "Nerys?" I repeat and Nerys stands up, eyes hauntingly dark once more.

"Sorry sugar, I was engrossed in my mind," she almost purrs again, but it's more like growl, darker and deeper. "You lead the way, cause I like a man that can take charge of a woman and tell her what to do. Domination is kinda..." she leans closer, voice getting lower and more guttural. "Is kinda hot. Hot and sweaty."

The words make my stomach somersault. Another trait of Mina's that I see in Nerys. The biggest difference is, though, that Mina knew I was gay, whereas Nerys doesn't, so I can't hold it against her and I just don't trust her enough to confide the information. Why would I? I'm going home and telling Nerys wouldn't do anything. It'd be pointless; it was hard accepting the fact that I wasn't interested in women, let alone constantly telling everyone. I've only just accepted it myself.

"Yeah," I rub the back of my neck awkwardly. "Let's just go."

I can only hold Nerys back for so long. After that, well, it'll be like opening a flood gate and I don't know whether I'll drown or not.

* * *

**Nobody's Home by Avril Lavigne.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Piper Oxalis, District Ten.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Meg, I apologise profoundly about Piper's death. I had no idea what kind of plots I could entangle her in, so I made sure her death was something you'd appreciate.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Favourite segment in this chapter?**_

_**Who do you not want to make the final ten (four more need to die) and why?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**DUN DUN DUN.**

**The Careers are on the edge of collapsing. Genevieve and Laise are getting closer, Magnus wants Fedora, Fedora is basically looking to kill them all and Magnus is the worst leader in the history of leaders. (I place all the constant hunting failures and switching of targets on Magnus for being a bad leader; legit, he lets them do whatever). Besides that, they keep turning on each other and making small pacts but secretly wanting them dead... slowly falling apart, I tell you.**

**Bliss has been ousted! What will happen now that Lux and Brigan know something is up with her?**

**Nerys is more creepier than usual. Finch is noticing more and more.**

**Tune in next time for Claustrophobia! *ending music***

**This chapter was a breaking point in plots. Things are set-up. Next chapter, I have A LOT planned concerning angst.**


	14. People Help The People

**People Help The People.**

_And if you're homesick, give me your hand and I'll hold it._

* * *

**Genevieve Arlen, District Four Female.**

* * *

My throat constricts as we enter the next tunnel. Something about it is suffocating and smothering, and I literally move my hands to my throat to encourage it to breath. It feels like someone is pressing their knuckles against it, blocking oxygen and everything else. Tears build at my eyes, blurring my vision. On instinct and for whatever reason, I grasp outwards, catching someone's wrist.

"Are you okay?" Laise's voice reaches my ears. It sounds strained. Maybe she's having trouble to?

"Can't breathe." I choke out.

I use my other hand to wipe furiously at my eyes. I instantly see Laise's face, calm and collected but a twinge of red across her cheeks and nose. I don't even feel anger when I look at Laise. That has long gone and it's refreshing, in a sense, knowing that for some reason, a frightening experience such as drowning can force me into making ammends with a girl whom I've been determined to destroy. Laise slips her wrist from my grip, replacing it with her hand.

"Something about this tunnel," she confirms with a weak voice. "No air."

I nod along, the movement making my head spin and feel heavy at the same time. Magnus and Fedora are somewhere around us, but it's okay, because I have Laise and I haven't felt like this since training started and Magnus ruined everything. My hate for him has only grown. I want to tell Laise; I want to tell her that I know Magnus has plans on allying with Fedora. I overheard the idiot asking Fedora, and Fedora was smirking, just because he knew that I could hear. He never confirmed Magnus' obvious wishes, but it doesn't matter; the gesture has separated us completely. I need Laise on my side, and not to mention that she has something in her backpack that she's not willing to share.

Maybe if we were allies and she could trust me, she'll show it. I steal a glance at her backpack, curiousity flooding my mind, making the suffocation a little easier to stomach.

"I need to... to talk to you," I whisper. Laise's head snaps in my direction, and I nod. "P-Privately."

When we finally reach the end of the tunnel, I realise that I never let Laise's hand go. The air suddenly hits me full blast and I gulp it down as quick as possible, realising how hard it actually was. Laise steadies me. It's nice to know I have someone, and whilst I don't hate her and have no anger, I still can't force myself to like her. Liking someone doesn't help you win now, does it?

"You girls okay?" Magnus is there, in front of me, eyes caring but calculating. Manipulative is a perfect word for him.

I hold back a sneer and nod, but Laise answers for the pair of us. "We're fine."

He holds his gaze though. "Oh, so you're friends again?" he pauses, eyes locked on mine rather than Laise. "That's nice considering everything that's happened between you two. It's good, knowing you can patch up differences and whatnot."

He's baiting me, I realise. Trying to switch on the anger button inside of me. Does he not realise that it's only for him now?

"I'm fine," I croak out. My head hurts and my eyes hurt but if Magnus wants to dance, I'm not one to say no. I used to friendly and mild-mannered until I came here. I guess those traits just don't work when you deal with idiots like Magnus and psychopaths like Fedora. "Tunnel had no oxygen."

He nods knowingly. "Well, I'm glad you guys are friends," he dismisses everything I just said and returns it back to his problem. Typical. "Did you both want to walk up front for a little while?"

"No thanks." I quickly answer before Laise has any other ideas.

Magnus takes the hint, letting his gaze linger for a moment before walking up front. The whole time, I don't even know where Fedora is. He should've been behind us but then wouldn't he have stepped forward? I don't know. I squeeze Laise's hand and she understands, nodding curtly. "Magnus?" Magnus turns around. "Me and Genevieve are going to sit down for a bit. Scout out?"

"Why don't we just find somewhere to sit together?" he counters.

"Genevieve is struggling to move and if we keep together, someone could find us. I can look after her," she looks Magnus and I faintly smile. "After all, we're friends now." she adds sweetly.

Magnus moves ahead. Fedora must be up front as well, cause I hear two sets of footsteps. Laise guides me down to the curved wall and helps me against it.

"Magnus is planning to take us down," I blurt out and I feel Laise tense by my side. "He asked Fedora to join him in taking us out. He doesn't trust us being together," I look straight at her. "We need to kill him before he tries to kill us."

"What about Fedora?"

"He never answered and he knew I was listening," I shrug. "I'm guessing that Fedora doesn't agree with Magnus. Either that, or it's all a ploy."

Laise thinks for a moment, her breaths filling the silence. "We wait until Magnus strikes. Keep an eye on him and Fedora, and when we sense it, we fight back. It's all we can do since we don't know if Fedora is gonna help him or not."

"I agree," the silence fills the air. It leaves me with my thoughts which has never been good, in all honesty. Each time I think, I go back to the day that my sister died in the water. It's why I hate water; I watched it kill her. I can't go the same way. I gingerly touch the wound underneath my hair, a reminder that the water almost got me. I was thrown against the wall head first. The cut on my forehead is thanks to the District Eight male. Both are just as bad as the other. I hate being left to think. I steal another curious glance at Laise's backpack. "Laise?" she hums. "What did you get from the sponsors?"

Laise scrunches up her face as she unzips her backpack. "This." she hands me the small zip-lock bag containing white powder. It looks... dangerous, but also innocent, kinda like sugar.

"What is it?" I play around with the zip and she tenses, placing her hand over mine. "What?"

"Don't open it!" her voice sounds panicked. She gulps slowly, as if the words can't be heard. "It contains arsenic." she whispers.

"Arsenic?" my face drops. That's dangerous, so I've heard.

She nods, confirming my belief as to why her mentor sent it. "To poison and kill Magnus."

* * *

**Maxim Bauer, District Nine Male.**

* * *

Knowing Harlow's secret has left me feeling guilty. I'm glad we patched things up, and that Harlow was able to release stress in a way that seems constricted in a place like this, but now, now I look at Tambryn and feel like I'm lying to her. Yes, I favor Tambryn over Harlow, but we're an alliance and we should all try to get along openly.

People might find it weird, how close and loyal I am to Tambryn, but they need to remember that as a thirteen year old, it's not like people are lining up to be my ally. I would've been on my own and Remy said that people without alliances tend to not go as far, due to the paranoia and constriction that being alone leaves. You're vulnerable twenty-four-seven, having to protect yourself. Allies allow sleeping shifts, more supplies to carry, more chances of sponsors etc. It's more personal, and I like it like that.

I twist my mouth when Harlow offers me a handful of nuts. "Why not?" she frowns.

"I don't feel hungry," I admit. Truthfully, I don't. I feel a little sick. "Give them to Tambryn."

Tambryn kindly accepts the nuts, but she twitches a little. It's something you'd need to concentrate on seeing, but for some reason, I know Tambryn and her movements and that was something out of the ordinary. She downs the nuts in one swift go. "Is that all of our food gone?" she asks, voice sullen.

"Yeah," Harlow admits, frowing once more. "If we want more, we need to go back to the Cornucopia."

"No sign of sponsors?" Harlow's frown deepens, confirming Tambryn's question. "I guess we should head back there then. I doubt the Careers would've stayed there the whole time, right?"

I stand up, grabbing the empty backpack. I let out a sigh and follow Tambryn and Harlow. Ever since the kill and the outburst and then the revealing of said secret, I'm emotionally drained. I want to cry and for a moment, I squeeze my eyes shut in order to release a tear that never comes. I can't cry and I don't know why. I told myself that I'd never become a monster or enjoy killing - and I don't - yet I can't get physically upset over Grey or Nadia or the District Twelve girl's death.

That worries me beyond belief and I don't want to worry Tambryn over it. She'll only fret and mollycoddle me and then it'll make Harlow feel out of place - and at one point, I wanted Harlow gone - but now I just want peace.

We turn the corner and the end of the tunnel flashes green. We were close to the Cornucopia all along? Tambryn moves faster, practically skipping, and Harlow follows. I will myself to run, but something in my body keeps me slower. The knot twists tighter and tighter and the feeling of sickness isn't just for the heavy burden, but for the trap we're walking into.

My mouth opens. "Tambryn!"

She whips her head around and the green light disappears, taking the white lights with it. My heart thumps against my chest as darkness consumes us. I can't breathe. It's like, without lights, there's no air. I grasp out for Harlow, but can't find her.

"Maxim!" Tambryn's shout echoes against the concrete walls. "Harlow! Maxim! Follow my voice!"

I take a step forward. A mechanical crunch sends my heart pounding and I start running, slamming straight into Harlow's back. She cries out and we both fall to the floor, the splashes of Tambryn's footsteps coming closer. That's when the tunnel seems to move. One moment, I'm on the ground, clasping at Harlow's hand in the darkness and hearing Tambryn running towards us. The next, the tunnel seems to spin and I fly across the watery floor, landing in the curve. I hear Harlow and Tambryn both scream, followed by a thud. Tambryn groans. My heart hammers against my chest, as if wanting to break free. I can hear my own voice in my head, berating me for being too slow in seeing the trap.

The tunnel suddenly stops and the lights flash on urgently. I look up, feeling the slick water dampen my hair and seep through my sweater. Harlow's grip on my hand is crushing. I spin over, looking at her raw face and red eyes.

"What was that?" her quavering voice asks. I shake my head. "Heavenly Father, please-"

I press my finger to her lips quickly. She seems shocked, cut off mid-whatever-she-was-saying. I look pass her to see Tambryn on the floor, face-down in the shallow water.

"Tambryn!" I cry, forcing my hand from Harlow's. She seems to come around, and as I throw myself across the gap towards my district partner, Harlow is right next to me, flipping Tambryn over. She isn't moving. Her eyes are shut, a long, curved gash bleeding red from her hairline to the top of her nose. Panic seizes my throat and I clumsily fumble for her sweater. Harlow starts to grapple alongside me but I don't know how to tell if she's breathing or not, I didn't learn any medical stuff!

"Harlow! I don't think she's breathing!"

"There's been no cannon so she's alive, Maxim, just hold on," Harlow's quavering voice answers. She's trying to be calm. She's probably "praying" as we do this. "Check her pulse."

"How do you check a pulse?" I practically scream in her face. No, no, no I can't lose Tambryn, not now, not now.

Harlow does it for me. Carefully, she places a finger to Tambryn's neck. My whole body violently shakes and I have to gulp the thick lump in my throat. I should be crying. Why am I not crying?

"She's alive," Harlow confirms and I let out a contained sigh. I scramble back over and lift Tambryn's head up, resting it in my lap. "What happened?" Harlow asks.

I blink a few times, willing tears, but can't make anything come. "I think the tunnel moved." I guess.

Then, the splashes of water alert me to someone else. I freeze, my fingers laced in Tambryn's hair. My eyes grow wide and Harlow scoots closer, fear and terror clear across her face. If we stay quiet, they might not find us. Whoever it is, they might think differently and walk the opposite way. But we're directly under one of the white lights and their echo footsteps are growing louder and louder.

There's more than one. There's more than two or even three. I gulp again and look at Harlow, but she's already miming back the words I dread to think about; Careers.

I hear the snap of an arrow being notched before the footsteps are so loud, I know they've arrived. Harlow squeaks and I crane my head around to look, despite the ribbon of fear twisting around my gut. The male from District One stands there, eyes trained on Harlow and myself. He looks sinister, bathed half in the shadows. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to either. We're as good as dead.

The other Careers are right behind him in seconds. None of them look sympathetic. I feel Harlow slide her hand into mine gently and we stare down our attackers. My heart leaps to my throat when I hear Harlow mutter a single word. For some reason, I feel like openly saying it to.

"Ahem." I whisper, sealing my fate.

* * *

**Fedora Clos, District One Male.**

* * *

Looking down at the three tributes, I feel some sort of twisted power. My arrow could kill them. One shot and they'd be dead. It's a thrill knowing that their life is in your hands. It was the same power surge I got when I managed to corner an animal, ready to make the kill. I was quick and clean, aiming for arteries and organs so that they'd die quickly and not damage the fur too much. Here, though, I don't have to be so clean-cut.

Soon enough, Magnus, Laise and Genevieve are behind me. I hold my breath and move the arrow slowly between the District Nine boy and the District Eleven girl. Both are young and naive, and either will complete my goal. Taking them out by their districts would make it easier to keep track on who is around. District Eleven would be wiped, and then District Nine would be at our mercy.

I keep my lips pressed into a line as I move the arrow to District Eleven's forehead. She squeals, tears leaking from behind her eyelids.

"What are you waiting for?" Magnus berates. "Don't toy with them, just shoot," he continues. I glance over my shoulder at his expecting face and supress a smirk. "Fedora, come on."

I'm not even toying with them. I don't do torture; it's weak. But, I want to make my move count. It's like a calculated game of chess and each move I make has a reaction that could cause me to lose. Magnus wouldn't understand; Magnus is a pathetic leader. He doesn't understands tactics nor plans. After all, he still doesn't realise that Genevieve knows everything he's planning to do. Combine that with Laise's secretive sponsor gift, and Magnus is playing with a fire that's soon going to flay him alive.

I let out a breath and release the arrow purposely between the two children. They both scream.

"Put her head down," I say, looking at the boy. He does so, resting his district partner back in the water. "Now, stand up."

He raises slowly, eyes never leaving mine and showing a strong determination encased in his bright orbs. Then, I notice the linked hands with the girl. Allies until their demise. The girl closes her eyes but the boy never releases that unnerving stare.

"Fedora. Now." Magnus hisses, demanding.

I have to push away the anger I have for the boy. He might be the leader, but that doesn't give him any right to boss me around. I am the strongest here, the hunter and the killer, and he thinks I'm his pet? I'm not his anything. Not his pet and definitely not his ally.

I arch another arrow and shoot it again, skimming the girl's shoulder. It rips the sweater and she screams, face nipped red.

"D-Don't mess around," the boy suddenly speaks up. I raise an eyebrow, his jaw shaking. "J-Just do it. Kill us now ra-ather than play with us."

Something about his words hit home. The bear tooth hanging around my neck suddenly feels heavier and I miss home again, longing for the familiar horizons and even Platinum. This doesn't feel right. I don't like how easy this is. With my other kills, I hunted. These practically fell into my lap and whilst I want them, I'm a hunter, and an easy kill is a pointless kill.

"Run," I simply say and I can hear Magnus gasp. I look at the pair harder. "Both of you. Run. Now."

"What the fuck are you doing?" Magnus berates again.

"Doing what I want," I reply quietly. "You have ten seconds before I shoot."

The girl seems elated and slips her hand from the boy's. He seems shocked but she frowns, backing away and taking her opportunity. The boy, however, seems to stick by his unconscious ally as loyal as he seemed to her in training. "I-I'm not leaving her."

"I'm s-s-sorry, Ma-axim." the girl utters and then, as quick as a flash, she turns around and sprints.

I hold the boy's glare as I move the newly-notched arrow. He gasps, knowing what is going to happen. I like a challenge. I've never kill someone at a distance before without looking. I release the arrow into the darkness.

"No!" the boy cries. It pings, cutting air, before I hear the familiar crunch echoed further down. There's a loud thump, followed by a cannon.

"About time." Laise remarks bitterly.

I look at the boy. He reminds me of me, staring down a creature much bigger and larger and more dangerous at such a young age, the fear being forced away by the strength and determination it takes to stare down death. This doesn't feel right. Nobody back at home would approve of this and for some reason, I can't bring myself to kill him. The bigger question, however, is how to make the others leave them alone. Or, well, I could let the others kill them instead.

Then, it hits me. "Magnus?" he hums in response. "Guide the girls away. Once I've killed them, I want to go the opposite direction to find District Ten and Five."

"Why can't we watch?"

I turn around, holding my gaze. I push another arrow into the bow. "Because I don't want you to. I want to move on and hunt. Now, are you going to question it, considering it was my choice to find them and I did, or just do as I say?"

Magnus seems to understand finally. I guess it doesn't help that my arrow is basically pointing at his heart. He turns around, walking away. For a moment, I don't believe that Laise nor Genevieve will do the same, but they eventually follow our so-called "leader". Then, I turn back to the boy.

"You've got about a twenty seconds to get yourself and your district partner out of here," I state calmly. "After that, I will shoot and I will kill you," he holds that strong face but it's chipped and broken, his ally's death now on the forefront of his conscience. "Now, move if you want to live."

Hurriedly, the little boy scoops and tugs at his district partner, dragging her away. They leave behind the bags and weapons but it doesn't matter; it needs to be believable. Slowly, he fades into the darkness, face red from the effort it takes to drag someone larger and taller. I bend over and pick up the kaiser blade that one of them was using. Swiftly, I bring the blade up and cut across my cheek, drawing blood. I hiss and curse from the pain but my bear tooth feels lighter. When I know the distance is good enough, I swipe my other cheek until I'm cut up with two long attacks. I'm about his height - obviously taller - so it'll look real too.

I'll just say that he fought back; that I missed with an arrow and ran because he injured me.

No-one is going to question me. Because, if they do, I'll simply shoot. I definitely don't have a problem with killing Magnus, Laise or Genevieve.

* * *

**Jayden Perona, District Twelve Male**.

* * *

The latest cannon doesn't affect me or Darek as much as it should of. We have no-one to lose but each other. I guess that's why I feel more distressed in losing Darek, then I ever did about the possibility of losing Bliss or Lux before the monster was revealed. I've grown closer to him in here then I ever did with my previous allies.

The lights all turn on. I look up, knowing Darek is doing the same, as the little girl from District Eleven is revealed on the tunnel's ceiling.

"District Eleven is out." Darek speaks hauntingly.

I nod. "Nearly every district has lost someone now. Only Districts Two, Three, Four and Nine are left as whole," I pause. "I guess their districts must be happy."

"I wonder how my district feels," Darek responds. I look to him, his eyes darker. "I have all my friends to go back to," he laughs dryly. "They'll be happy I made it this far. I doubt they ever assumed I could do it."

"Didn't you say you were athletic and everything in school?"

"I kept myself on the straight and narrow," he confirms. "I got good grades and did sports and had decent friends. Look at me already talking about it like I'm dead."

"Hey, cheer up. We're alive now, aren't we?" I nudge his shoulder lightly, enthusiastic, and he smirks, trying to hide it. "See, there you go. We're alive and there are only thirteen of us left. That's pretty incredible if you think about it."

"I guess, I guess, okay stop nudging me now," he laughs and I suddenly feel better. I'd rather have Darek happy than down. For some reason, I care a lot more about him than I should about competition. Except, he's not competition, he's a friend. A friend in a hopeless place. God I feel stupid. "Let's keep moving."

We stand up, collecting the backpacks and our respective weapons, before moving onwards, keeping to our pattern. It's been far too quiet since our encounter with the Careers. We escaped, and I guess that's a good sign because if we can beat them, our odds are better than we assumed. It gives us hope. That, and having someone you can trust is great, particularly if your trust was previously shattered. Even better that Darek has never questioned me on why I'm not with them; he probably just assumes that I abandoned them.

We cross the tunnels and intersections, keeping our feet in time.

We hit the metal bars again and stop. "Do you think there's loads of dark corners then?" Darek asks quietly.

"Probably." I reply in a whisper.

Then, a guttural snarl breaks our forced silence. My eyes widen instantly and Darek backs up, boots splashing the water. I can feel my heart in my ears as another snarl breaks through. It's definitely coming from the shadows. That's definitely unnerving. My hand twitches and I freak out, only faintly realising Darek's hand is sliding into mine. It must comfort him. We back up slowly, and as far as I care, I want as far away from these bars as possible.

We suddenly don't care about the carefulness. Me and Darek, hand-in-hand, just sprint. For some reason, I don't even think of pushing Darek away and I don't even like guys. Something about this is comforting, and right now, I need comfort. I need to be at home with my mother caring for me when I was sick, the sickly smell of the boiled sweets from downstairs making my nose turn and throat gag. This reminds me of that. It helps keep me rooted and sane.

I can hear my heart in my ears still even as we stop. Darek instantly slips his hand from mine, spinning around and revealing wide eyes.

That's when I realise the tunnel we're in. I was near this tunnel when I heard the noise, just before meeting Darek as he pounced from the shadows. The backpack slips from my shoulder in slow motion, slipping out on the watery floor.

We start to run again. I feel to scream, but the lump is lodged in my throat and affecting my breathing. Then, the air whistles against my neck and I grasp Darek's hand, yanking him to the side as the rush of water clips my side. On the lucky chance, I manage to force both myself and Darek around the corner. The push forces us to the floor and I wince, my back slamming against something hard. Darek falls on top of my stomach and I splutter, water trapped in my mouth and scorching my throats.

Not only can I feel my own heartbeat as rapid as it could be, but I can feel Darek's as well, thumping against my chest in rhythm.

I look Darek in the eyes. "Dar-rek?"

He pushes forward and presses his lips against mine. His eyes slip closed and for a moment, I just stay there, perfectly still, eyes wide as Darek forces the kiss harder. As he pulls back, he leaps to his feet, face drawing under the light.

"Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap," he stammers, unable to meet my eyes. I get up, confusion clouding my mind. "I'm so-sorry Jay. I'm so sorry, oh god, I've messed it all up."

"Darek, calm down."

"I can't believe... I just, I don't know what came over me, I don't," he glances up and instantly recoils; though, I do notice his eyes are watery. "Please don't hate me." he murmurs, and suddenly, he feels much younger and innocent and I feel like the guilty one.

"Dude, I don't like guys, I'm sorry," I say tentatively. "But if I did, I'd definitely pick you?"

I see him calm down. He keeps his eyes downcast, but I definitely feel the tension evaporating from the tunnel. "What?"

"I don't hate you. I couldn't hate you. You're my friend. I don't like guys, I'm sorry for that, but it's cool if you do, you know?" I step forward, inching my hand out. "I won't judge. I used to work in a sweet shop, for pity's sake," I touch Darek's shoulder carefully and encourage him to look up. "See? I don't hate you. I like you, in fact, just not the same way."

He smiles softly. "Yeah, I understand. I'm still... I'm still sorry."

A silence falls over us. It's not awkward or tense, but it's settled. Me and Darek are strong and can defy all odds.

* * *

**Brigan Knoll, District Three Male.**

* * *

"I can't believe it. I just... I don't know what to think..." Lux looks at me from across the gap, his eyes compassionate despite all the hate I've been using against him. "She lied to us the whole time."

"She's been lying to me longer." Lux responds more downtrodden.

I feel a twinge of guilt. Lux has been with Bliss since the beginning and clearly, the betrayal would hurt him more. It could just be a miscommunication? Maybe everything just got lost between us and Bliss just needed to escape. I sigh and Lux offers another comforting smile. I guess I'm just clutching at straws. Bliss played us all like a flute.

"Do you think she'll come back?" I ask. Part of me wants her to come back and part of me doesn't. If she does, she can explain everything to us. I wouldn't hold the slap against her; it was a moment of frustration poorly projected.

"I doubt it," he responds lowly. "If anything, Bliss will stay away now. Our plan has fallen apart. We're no longer essential to her."

I wish I had a time machine. If I could have built one, I could have saved Adra and Alder and avoided their deaths, in turn, avoiding Bliss taking me in. I probably caused all of this when I joined. If I didn't, I would have died but at least none of this would have happened. It's almost like karma, in a sense that I deserve this. I broke my promise to her. I told Lux when I shouldn't, and if I didn't - and continued to just despise him - then Bliss would still be here and things would've been okay - tense and tight, but okay.

Then, I remember something. I panic, begin to look through the nearest backpack hastily.

"What are you doing?" he asks curiously.

I don't respond, I just dig. I pull apart the nuts and berries and beef jerky, a bag of medical aid and a flask of water and then, it hits me. I look up, feeling my lips and even my eyes just constricting. "T-The knife, it's gone."

Lux's face falls. "Bliss' knife? The bloody one?" I nod, confirming our worst fears. "So she took our only weapon and is probably out to kill us. Perfect."

"We don't have any other weapons, Lux," I repeat. "We can't protect ourselves from the others. If they find us, we're as good as dead."

His lips scrunch up and, even in the lack of light, I notice the way his skin pales. He sighs deeply. "I guess we just have to let them not find us. Either that, or risk the Cornucopia for another weapon. But one, I don't know where it is and two, the Careers or another pair could easily be there. It's extremely risky."

"I don't want to risk it," I quickly say. "I don't, I don't want everything to fall apart."

Lux sighs. "But Brigan, if it is the Careers, I could probably get Genevieve to hand me something? She's always been off with me, but that whole district-partner-loyal-bond thing is a good bargaining chip."

"Yeah, that's good for you, but what about me? I'm just another meal ticket!" I almost scream. "I can only use that bond thing with Bliss and I've pretty much ran that out."

Lux stands up. It's clear in his dark eyes that we are never going to agree. Bliss was our glue, and without her, we're not going to hold together. I spent all my time hating Lux, pushing us further and further apart, and now I'm left to trust the one person whom I have literally banished from my life. Bliss has well and truly left us vulnerable. Was the knife always in the backpack? The last time I saw it was ages ago, and she was placing it in the backpack, red blood cascading from the tip. My eyes widen and I quickly dig the remnants of stuff out.

"She never placed the knife in here," I look at Lux. "It was dripping blood, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," he confirms. "She had to fend against something and attacked him."

"It didn't leave behind a blood pool or anything. It never went in here. Bliss must've kept it to herself the entire time."

"She's been playing us even better than I imagined," Lux's voice is grave now, even hurt. He must have really liked her and felt betrayed. My own heart thumps, reminding me that I, too, placed too much trust in someone who crushed it between her fingers. "She still has the knife then. Which means, if she's had it all along, she's been following a plan."

My heart jumps to my throat and I struggle to get the words out. "...which means that everything has worked out perfectly for her."

Lux leans over to inspect the backpack himself. Then, as I focus my eyes on him, wondering what he's thinking and trying to calm myself down, he's thrown to the side. I freak out, a squeal escaping my throat as a hand forces me back against the cemented wall, my head bouncing off the curve like it was nothing more than a ball. White stars explode in my vision as my head burns. I manage to see a flash of silver and then blonde, and despite the injury, I quickly put the pieces together.

Bliss is back.

Lux shoots up and spins around, wrestling Bliss' grip from around my throat. Since when was her fingers there? My eyes grow heavy and everything is becoming harder to handle. I just want to sleep. The back of my head feels warm and sticky, too, like that time when Sephora bathed me and washed the smell of gasoline from my curls. The grip is released and I slump down the curve, feeling weak and dizzy. Splashes of water reach my ears and I force myself to perk up, in order to help Lux fend her off.

There's a snarl. It sounds like Bliss, only more of an animal.

My vision slowly comes back. Lux and Bliss tussle, the knife aimed towards Lux's throat. He's weak. I will myself to move but my head injury keeps me dizzy and confused, as well as planted to the spot.

I feel helpless as Bliss kicks Lux in the shin, causing him to stutter with his defense. The knife comes charging downwards, straight for his throat. He backs up in time to move, but the blade slices his chest, causing him to stagger back in pain. I see the brief glimpse of Bliss' smile before she buries the knife in his chest. Lux gasps and I feel to scream, but something is lodged in my throat. With a pivot of her wrist, she twists the blade, effectively making Lux's cannon sound.

My eyelids grow heavier. Bliss pulls the knife out, the red blood cascading towards the water like that time before. Lux crumples quickly and Bliss approaches me.

As I give in to the tiredness, I hear one simple sentence that rocks me to the core.

"I have to clean up my plot holes, Brigan. Surely you understand."

* * *

******People Help The People by Birdy.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Harlow Bellamy, District Eleven.**

******Lux Solaris, District Four.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Rosy, Harlow was one of your most creative characters yet. I really will miss her.**

**Swordy, same goes for you. I loved Lux as much as I loved Bracken. I think it was his time to go.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Favourite segment in this chapter?**_

_**Who would you like to see die before the final ten? (two tributes)**_

_**What is behind those bars?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Okay, so basically, Maxim's POV opened up a new part of the arena that I had planned. Basically, the system of sewers is like a maze, naturally, with the dome neon room for the bloodbath, the storm drain that's larger and wider than the rest, "trap" tunnels and "safe" tunnels.**

**The "safe" tunnels do no harm. Completely safe. "Trap" tunnels, however, is a mix of things; we've seen closing walls, lack of oxygen, and now, spinning and moving. In fact, a lot of the tunnels spin and move, but this is the first time a tribute has been caught in it. It's to keep the tributes bumping into each other and escaping with ease. Otherwise the tributes may never meet.**

**If you need help, think of the Grand Staircase in Harry Potter, that move and shift. A few tunnels do that, thus, Maxim, Tambryn and Harlow ended up right next door to the Careers.**


	15. She-Wolf

**She-Wolf.**

_But I can't compete with the she-wolf who has brought me to my knees._

* * *

**Bliss Promenade, District Three Female.**

* * *

When I stabbed Lux, I felt a rush. The same rush that I gained from stabbing that District Seven boy, Brigan's old ally. I never knew that cleaning up plot holes could be so invigorated. I look up, searching Brigan's unconscious face. His eyes are closed, face pale and a fine line of blood curling around his throat from his head injury. I need for him to wake up soon. This death should be the most dramatic and exciting, a death that will forever be imprinted within my book. Killing him in this state would be lacklustre, plain and simple.

"Come on Brigan, I'm growing bored," I chant, twirling the stained knife. A drip of blood falls onto my boot. "Look, I'm even painting myself cause I'm that bored."

I stand up, beginning to pace around. I drag the blade across my hand and look harder at Brigan, willing him awake. Then, I look back at Lux's bleeding body. The water is red because of him. His pale face is downturned, hair facing me. I can't even see my work. How bad. I'll just have to make it sound much more dramatic and gruesome than it actually was, because really, Lux fell easily and that kinda sucks. He should have fought more. I wish he did; having some wounds would have been a good way to help publish things.

Bored, I surge forward, wrapping my hand in Brigan's curls. With a whip of my hand, I crack the back of his head against the concrete once more. He begins to stir, mumbles escaping his lips.

"It's about time you join us," I say, noticing his eyes opening, blurred and strained, struggling. "Come on Brigan, it's important you wake up for the big plot twist."

"P-Plot twist..." he mumbles, still not with it.

"Yes, plot twist. The moment the protagonist turns against her allies, killing them because of their conspiracies to kill her together," I pull his head back towards me, suppressing a snarl. "I need to fix things, Brigan, after you broke your promise to me."

His head lolls back and forth, as if his neck is too weak to hold his head. With another whip of my hand, I pull him forward. Brigan dramatically falls forward, and with a thrust, I force his head underneath the shallow water until I feel his head touch the dirty bottom. It takes a moment, but his body reacts, squirming and shaking as it realises that it's shutting down. He struggles against my grip, so I yank him up and he splutters pathetically.

"Always pathetic," I sneer, bending down, knife aching in my other hand to enter his throat. "I don't know how you even got any allies, you're that useless. What can you do, Brigan? I thought you had brains, but clearly, all you had is tears to shed and mourn."

"...w-why Bliss... why are you d-doing this?..."

Anger twists in my stomach and I push my face into his. "Because you, my dear Brigan, ruined my story. Everything is ruined because of you!"

"...I thought I wa-as helping you..." he replies weakly.

"You should have kept quiet. You speaking means death, or haven't you realised that? Your allies died because you were with them. Lux is dead because you forced my hand. You're bad luck," I let go, slamming the heel of my hand against his head. He falls forward, barely keeping up as he scrambles at the floor away from me. "Everything is your fault. You was going to have a great part in my best-seller, the young child whom I couldn't save, but you just got rewrite."

I move forward, kicking Brigan in the stomach. He coughs in pain, turning over to face me. I don't waste time in kicking my boot across his nose, hearing the faint crack and a howling scream from his lips. His hands cup his broken nose and I lean forward. "Do you smell that, Brigan?" when he doesn't answer, I brandish the knife. "That's the smell of my success."

I kick his ribs again and bend over, straddling his wiggling body. He notices and begins to move about, but somehow, he can't bring himself to hit me back.

Then, it hits me. When I hear his whimper, tears sparkling underneath the light, I just know it has to be said.

"You know your ally, the boy from District Seven?" I lean forward, my breath ghosting over his ear. "I murdered him in cold blood because I needed to add something to my list."

His eyes widen, lips too shock to say anything. It's almost picture perfect. I clamp my hand over his mouth, feeling the blood from his broken nose pooling around my fingers, as I bring the knife towards his throat. Feeling the cold blade, he tries to crane his weak head away, but I simply pin him harder against the floor. I push the knife against his skin until it draws blood, leaking down his neck.

"How does it feel to die at the hands of someone you thought you could trus-"

I scream, recoiling my hand and dropping the knife. Brigan suddenly has fire in his eyes - having just bit my hand, the little worm - and is somehow able to take advantage of the situation, thrusting me off of him. I scramble back and send a blinding fist straight into his already broken nose. He screams and buckles in pain, and I quickly bend down to search for the weapon in the murky waters. I don't anticipate his boot flying at my head, forcing me to bite down on my tongue in agony. It does its job though; my vision shakes straight away and my head throbs in pain.

The confusion clouds me. I pat the watery floor until I feel the touch of steel grazing my finger. With a flick of my wrist, I bring the knife up and flying out the water, heading straight for Brigan's thigh. It sinks in and he screams again, though it's more broken this time. I pivot my wrist, twisting the pain and the desperation in him. I love the power surge that rides through my body.

He kicks with his other leg, before falling over. The knife rips from his head and I quickly pull up, ready to plant the knife into his forehead, when he spectacularly catches the blade in his hand. Tears well up, blood cascades from his hand, but he holds it steady and I push it with all my might, watching his face crumble under the pain.

Somehow, it happens in a blur.

Brigan manages to overpower it. He grabs my wrist with his other hand, and powerfully, he bends and guides it away from him. I push everything into it, but then as quick as a flash, he twists his hand, causing my wrist to dart upwards. The blade plummets into my chest. The pain overwhelms, my own fingers holding the weapon that ended my life. Stars explode in my vision as I lose grip of reality. Darkness consumes me, forcing me to fall off of Brigan's smaller body.

With my last ounce of breath, I hear the sound of my cannon, followed by the failure of my book.

* * *

**Nerys West, District Five Female.**

* * *

"Two cannons," I remind Finch as we walk. He hums without looking back, and from behind, you get a great view of what Finch has to offer me on a platter. "Who do you think they were?"

"Could've been anyone. Not like we have district partners to worry for."

With both Hamlet and Piper dead, me and Finch only have each other. It works out perfectly for us, and I can't help but smile. "I reckon a Career must have fallen. Four of those suckers are still alive. It just wouldn't be fair."

Finch laughs dryly. "Since when have the Hunger Games been about equality and fairness?"

He's totally right there. In the last forty years, District Five has had three Victors, and even then, one of them was before those forty years. So in reality, we've had two wins: Zeke and Elesa. Compare that to the likes of double digits for a Career district, and it is ultimately unfair. Another reason to hate the world we live in. I'll have to perfect it in my own ways. Sometimes, when I look at these concrete walls, I think maybe being executed would have been more easier. This is basically the same, but I'm playing around before my ultimate demise. No doubt President Snow is waiting to off me for my crimes against Panem. Head Peacekeeper Petro has probably already signed the signature needed for the firing squad, cause honestly, my crimes don't deserve whips, they deserve bullets.

"Not going to argue about that. Still, the odds shouldn't be entirely in their favor," I say as we turn the corner, revealing another set of metal bars. "Oh, this is just taking the piss." I finger my taser through nerves. Finch watches me warily, so to make him feel at least, I stuff the object into my bag. "It's gone."

I step closer to Finch and he visibly flinches. "Yeah, I guess so." he mumbles.

I frown. What's eating him, besides me in my fantasies? He's been acting strange ever since, and if anything, the prospect of the challenge has only made him more attractive in my eyes. The darkened lust tingles against my heart, thumping hard, reminding me of why I chose him as my ally and my potential lover. If he says no, then it just heightens the pleasure, in my opinion.

It always has done. The first boy was so unsuspecting as I jumped from the shadows, pinning his smaller body to the floor as I whacked him over the head. I waited for him to wake, tied up to a lampost, before I forced myself on him. I even had to gag him at one point he was complaining so much. The more I heard the noises, the harder I went, pleasure ripping through my awakened body. It has been an addiction ever since then.

He turns away from the bars, clutching onto his backpack. "Is it me, or are there more dead-ends?"

For some reason, there's no emotion in his voice, and all the hardwork in this alliance seems to be slipping away. It's as if Finch doesn't trust me, even though I killed the girl to save us and am still here, watching his every move with desired eyes, constantly holding back the animalistic desire to rip his clothes to shreds. "I think there are more dead-ends," I admit, trying to sound more upbeat and not allow the lust to overpower me so easily. "Either that or we've been walking in circles."

"Probably that," he rubs his fist in his eyes. "It feels like I haven't slept in years."

"You can always rest, if you want?" I offer up, making sure my voice sounds even, and not hopeful.

He looks up, eyes wide. "No no, you're okay," he looks confused, too, his eyebrows knitted. "I think if we keep moving, I'll be alright."

I gesture my hand out. "After you, gorgeous."

He offers the simplest of smiles and walks ahead, giving me back the view I crave so dearly. I can definitely sense the difference with him. Maybe he's noticing more? Maybe I'm letting the hunger come across to clear? I hold back the lustful growl building in my throat as I watch his hips swish. Ever now and then, I lose control because I just want things. I want the attention and the intensity and the moaning and heated skin. I want it all, whether they do also or not. I'm not fussy; they don't have to agree.

We turn another corner. It does feel like we're walking in circles, with each intersection leading us right back to the start.

The grinding noise makes Finch freeze, though, and I take the chance to brush up against his back. I can hear his heartbeat thumping loudly in his chest, echoing.

"What is it?" I whisper in his ear, feeling him shiver under my touch.

The noise becomes overpowering, deafening, and my face contorts as it becomes unbearable.

It suddenly stops. My eyes widen, something feeling very unnerving about the situation. Then, it happens, slowly and dramatically. The walls begin to close in on us, water making miniature tidal waves as they are forced together.

"Run!" Finch bellows, rushing ahead. I don't think, either, I just follow, aching for him to hold my hand and lead me to safety.

We sprint hard. My eardrums pop, as if they're filling with blood. My foot snags on something, sending me toppling to the floor with a splash. The cement wall grazes my fingertips as I force myself upwards, Finch having not stopped. I run faster than ever, falling from side to side, stretched arms pathetically attempting to stop the oncoming danger. Finch bursts out into the light and turns. I see his face, looking with great care, before he lunges forward and grips my hand. He heaves me from the tunnel and I practically scream, the walls slamming shut and, without Finch's help, would've crushed me to death.

My heart won't slow down. I can't breathe. I clutch my throat, scratching in a weak attempt to provide me with oxygen. Finch even falls to his knees, gasping for strangled air. The whole scenario was fast and quick, the thought makes my head spin. I keep my eyes on Finch as he forces himself up on his feet, sickly pale face shown.

"T-T-T-" I'm unable to even speak the words because my throat burns so much. He nods, understanding.

I move forward, my feet struggling to hold me. They give way, sending me forward. Finch, despite the exhaustion, manages to catch me but I purposely make myself heavier, pushing him over. We fall down into the water, our faces just inches apart. I hold my breath, pretending to feel faint. His eyes are clear, strained, and at that precise moment, I realise that I can't hold it in much longer. The lust ties a perfect ribbon around my heart and I just know that I must have him, whether he does or not.

The alliance may be over after this, but it doesn't matter; I always get what I want.

* * *

**Magnus Croft, District Two Male.**

* * *

"We're near the final ten." I say, turning around to face the group. No-one seems interested, and I can't help but wonder how I ended up with being the leader when all the others ever do is criticise my choices.

Fedora nods, his cuts looking worse from the shadows. Genevieve and Laise don't even acknowledge my words, keeping to themselves and looking away. We've gotten this far, and if anything, this is down to me. As much as they assume that I'm the worst leader the Hunger Games have ever seen, four Careers still alive at this point is pretty impressive. With Dione's death the only one hanging us down, I think we've been a successful pack, what with Fedora's hunting and the girls' constant make-up-break-up.

All of which keeps me on my toes.

"I hope it clears out some more districts." Fedora comments.

I narrow my eyes. "Even though District Nine pretty much escaped you, right?" I question his answer behind it all. According to him, the little one overpowered him, and I just don't believe it. Fedora - dangerous and proud - was beaten by a child? It doesn't make sense. It should've been an easy kill and yet he lost them. Maybe someone so almighty has finally fallen?

"He was pretty strong," Fedora doesn't waver. "I underestimated him. But, if we're talking about that, then I could always ask you how you let the District Eight boy go, oh, I don't know, twice now?"

"Not to mention your incompetence killing the District Seven girl quickly."

"I was using it to trail her," he responds, voice cutting like a knife. "I didn't actually fail, seeing as I managed to kill her. Then, I got her district partner. And I got the District Ten female. How many have you exactly killed, Magnus? Because as far as I'm seeing, you're all hyped up and delivering nothing."

Laise and Genevieve are looking now, I can just tell. They're probably enjoying the karma that's fallen upon me, seeing as I ruined their connection and now mine with Fedora has practically crumbled. I don't trust him. How can you trust someone so powerful and dangerous, in a game where everyone wants to be the lone survivor?

I smirk, trying my best to keep it together. "I would actually kill if I was allowed a chance," I counter. "But unfortunately, you want the kills all for yourself. Is that a controlling complexity or something? If so, you're than welcome to my fated position."

He cracks a smile. It's unnerving, an act that Fedora has never really done. "I think you're doing a damn good job as it is. Why would I want to ruin your perfect record?"

"Oh, I don't know, because you're psychopathic?"

He laughs dryly. "Now you're acting paranoid. They say that's the first step to insanity."

I snap my head towards Laise. Her eyes lighten up, eyebrows quirked with curiosity. "I have every good reason, seeing as people like keeping secrets from each other."

"I take it this is about my gift again?" Laise scoffs. "Grow up, Magnus."

"Why should I?" I exasperate. "We're all meant to stab each other in the back eventually, so why not now?"

"Oh please," Laise scoffs again. "You've been doing it since we gathered after the chariots. Rejecting Lux was the first step to your master plan."

"If I had a master plan, you'd already be dead." I hiss.

Laise's face contorts, and she throws her hands out, dropping her sword. "You want to sort something out?"

"Tell me what you got in the backpack," I spin around to Fedora, jerking a finger at him. "And tell me why you failed to do your job properly, Mister Mercenary."

I probably sound insane, but I don't care. It bugs me knowing that each of them are doing something else, and whilst everyone at home can see, I'm being both walked over and treated like a fool. Fedora is doing things he shouldn't be, whilst Laise is receiving items that could make or break this alliance. For a team, we suck at actually trusting each other. Then again, I am the biggest hypocrite of all. That's not the point though. Being trapped in small confinements can make anyone paranoid, and it feels like not only are the others purposely adding to the overall anxiety, but they are all out to get in, one way or another.

Fedora's face flashes angry. "I am my own person, and I can make my own choices without having to report to you as to why."

"Exactly what he said," Laise joins in. "I don't have to justify myself to you," I notice the way Genevieve inches closer to Laise, eyes glaring at me. She's still not happy about Lux but frankly, she needs to get over it and suck it up. "My name, my sponsor, my item to use as I please."

"If it's a weapon, I suggest yo-"

My words are toppled over by the anthem as the tunnel lights up. I scowl, looking up at the ceiling as the District Three female is shown. Then, the face changes, and I barely catch the glimpse of Lux's sweetened face before two hands are pushing me backwards.

I quickly look down Genevieve, her eyes alight with fire. My lips twist into a scowl and I retract my hand backwards, whipping it across her cheek. The tunnel goes dark, and hell breaks loose.

Genevieve leaps forward and Laise's scream echoes against the walls. Her fist finds my stomach, but I clutch at her hair, pulling her back. No-one reacts. I carelessly send my fist into her stomach in response, causing her to gag.

"Leave her alone!" Laise hisses and moves forward swiftly. I push Genevieve away, barely avoiding Laise's wild fist. The moment allows her knee to find my gut, causing me to gag. Genevieve's hand is suddenly grabbing the back of my neck, tender fingers digging into the soft flesh. She draws my head back, sending her other fist into my throat. I gag again. Reflexes switch on, and I kick wildly, Laise jumping backwards. I use the momentum to stagger backwards, slamming Gen's petite body into the wall with a crunch, hearing her cry out. Laise runs forward, but my next kick lands directly in her lower stomach, forcing her to the floor.

I pull forward - Genevieve still clinging to me - before slamming back again, hearing another moan. Laise is down on her knees, buckled over. I pull forward and do it again, Genevieve's grip on my neck slowing weakening. One more does the trick, and I hastily throw Genevieve off of me like she was nothing more than a discarded doll. I move over to Laise swiftly - catching sight of her sword glowing under the water - before sending my boot into her face, putting her out for the count.

"W-Well, I guess that's i-it," I try and steady my breathing, Genevieve's punch making my windpipe feel bruised. "W-We shoul-ld go." I turn around, and my face falls.

Fedora arches the arrow, staring at me over the pointed weapon, eyes locked on a target. I can't hide the disappointment that floods my chest. He doesn't waver, and with a ping, he releases the arrow.

I expect the arrowhead to pierce through my forehead or my throat, maybe even my heart, but it shoots through my thigh and I howl in pain. My legs give way, sending me to the floor, tears welling up. He moves forward, loads another arrow, and releases the second one into my other thigh. I howl again, tears streaming free and blood tainting the water.

Down on my knees, it's like I'm begging. I feel dirty and disgusting.

"You got too big for your boots," Fedora comments. "The power went to your head."

As the third arrow is loaded - already bloody from District Ten - my fate is sealed. I can't fight back and I can't move. My fingers shake, and I don't even have the energy to answer back or pry the metal heads from my thighs. I look up at him, studying him carefully. He was always my greatest competitor. I close my eyes, accepting it.

Pain shoots through my back and then my chest, taking away my breath and replacing it with agony. It hurts. It hurts so bad.

I open my eyes, and through the blur, I can still see the arrow locked within Fedora's bow.

"That was for Lux, you evil piece of dirt." Genevieve's voice drifts to my ears, before darkness consumes me.

* * *

**Tambryn Delevingne, District Nine Female.**

* * *

_The fields sway to the gentle breeze, corn and grain just dancing underneath the wind's touch. This is one of the few sights that I miss from District Nine. I miss the fields of gold that lined most of my district, giving us a beautiful feel compared to the limited views I've seen of other districts. I reach out, aching to touch it for the sake of reminding myself of home, when the wind picks up. It blasts into me, pulling back my top and revealing my dreamcatcher. The wind pulls it away, floating in the air as if it had a mind of its own, the string around my neck being but an anchor._

_A surge in the breeze suddenly breaks the string. It carries the dreamcatcher and I freak out, clawing the air as it rises higher and higher, seeming within inches but in reality, it's lost. My heart sinks and I watch it continue to fly, like birds through the sky, before it descends somewhere down into the corn field. My lips curl into a smile and I break out into a run, pushing pass the long stalks of our trade._

_It feels like I've been running forward, the desperate need to find it only increasing._

_I push pass the next set of stalks, frantic, heart thumping in my ears, making my head feel hollow. Something doesn't feel right. I stop, breathing hard, and extend my hand to curl to the wind. The world is upset over something. The aura and balance is off. Stepping forward tentatively, I can't help but feel sick to my stomach. I push through the edge and notice my dreamcatcher laying down in the middle of a clearing, abandoned by the breeze._

_I move hastily. I bend over and quickly grab the forgotten object, clutching against my chest. It pulses underneath my touch; a bad sign._

_Roars and screams echo throughout the field, and I look up, heart in my throat. I whip my head around, watching the grain move and swish violently, stomps and cheers protruding through the chaos. A flicker of fire catches my attention. Another one sprouts, followed by another and another._

_"Witchcraft!"_

_I snap my head around._

_"Con-artist!"_

_My heart pulsates in my throat. I feel to be sick. The dreamcatcher thumps and thumps in my hand, and when I look down, it's shaking violently, emitting a bright blue light that blinds me._

_"Hustler!"_

_"Liar!"_

_"Cheat!"_

_Why am I hearing it? My lips quiver as I try and hold back the oncoming tears. All my life, this has been my worst fear. Why now? Why in this field? I knew people didn't believe her, but we're not... I'm not... someone bursts through the thick growth, pitchfork and fire being the first I see. I don't notice the face, at least, not straightaway. When I look up at the once kind face and light hair, I can't help but whimper. Glenn, my best friend, chanting for my blood._

_He steps closer, eyes ablaze. "You're a witch," he recites. "A witch condemned to die."_

_"G-Glenn," I openly weep, unable to stop the shaking. The dreamcatcher continues to dance, making it harder to hold. "W-Why are you d-doing this? Glenn, i-it's me, y-your friend!"_

_Another man emerges from the fields. Followed by another, and then another, eyes locked on me. A woman steps out, apron wrapped around her waist and a small child clinging to her hip. I look down at his frightened eyes. So young, brought along to witness. A larger man steps out. My heart hiccups in my chest as it's revealed to be our mayor, Mayor Worchester._

_"You are hereby condemned to die for acts of witchcraft. How do you plead, Miss Delevingne?"_

_"Not guilty!" I scream, ripping open my throat, and the dreamcatcher pounces from my hands, moving on its own._

_The townspeople gasp and seem genuinely shocked. Tears lean heavily on my eyelashes and I hurriedly wipe them away, just as showers of blue light blast the members. They scream and cry, evaporated by whatever the dreamcatcher spits at them. I shield my eyes but I can't shield my ears, their deafening cries for help sending my blood cold. Then, as everything calms, I pull my hands away. A blue stream cuts through Glenn's body, ripping him to ribbons. I scream again. The dreamcatcher turns, turning from blue to a darkened red, floating down closer. I stumble backwards, tripping and falling through the stalks. I can't run. I'm paralysed, hypnotised, and an angry beam cuts through my chest._

_"Tambryn!" a voice beckons._

I wake up with a startle, my head protesting in agony. I wince, the lights far too bright. My vision is blurry, but I hear the faint whisper of someone crying. I blink a few times and tilt my head, realising I'm pressed against a wall, water lapping at my hair. Maxim leans on the curve, knees tucked underneath his chin. His tears glitter from the spotlights.

"M-Maxim?" I mumble, and he suddenly becomes alert, looking up.

"Tambryn," he says back, voice weakened. "How are you feeling?"

My head thumps, as if trying to answer. "I'm okay," I lie, the dream having made my skin turn cold. "Where's Harlow?" I ask.

His face goes pale. "S-She's dead," he answers with a struggle. "And another one has died. We're at the final ten now."

He hits me hard, making my head seem much worse. I gently bring my fingers around the back, inspecting the wound and, of course, the sticky blood that's been slightly washed off. The last thing I remember is the room spinning and being thrown carelessly against the opposite wall. Between then and now, Harlow died and Maxim survived. I survived. Did he protect me? Did Harlow sacrifice herself for me? I have no idea, and that leaves my heart even heavier.

"The boy from District One," Maxim comments and I look at him, eyes watery. He's been crying; the first time I've ever seen him do so. "He gave us a chance to run. To escape the Careers. He... he shot her as she ran," he gulps, a shaky breath parting through his lips. "He let us live, Tam. W-We could've di-ied."

I nod without conviction. I can only replay the dream over and over in my mind, the protesting figures and how scared I felt. I knew some people from District Nine never liked what my aunt Estelle did, but I didn't think they'd try and kill her - kill me.

I suddenly remember my dreamcatcher, laid against my chest. I snake my arm through and pull it forth, inspecting it under the light. My palms tingle and the object feels heavier. Whatever the dream was, it was a sign; a sign that tells me that fate has changed its course, and I must follow.

"You've been out for ages," Maxim mentions again. "I didn't think y-you'd wake up."

I offer a comforting smile. "I'm awake now, though," I slip the dreamcatcher back underneath my sweater. "And I have plans to follow through."

His eyes widen with curiosity. "What do you mean?"

My comforting smile curls wider. "Fate has other ideas. I have to follow through, and I need your help, Maxim."

"Why?" he quickly questions.

"Because," I stand up. "You're the most important piece."

* * *

**She-Wolf by David Guetta ft. Sia.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Bliss Promenade, District Three.**

******Magnus Croft, District Two.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Dramatic, Bliss was pure satire and I loved writing her.**

**Jake, Magnus was a lousy leader, but I guess that made him different and more unique compared to most leaders I've ever had. He'll be greatly missed.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Favourite segment in this chapter?**_

_**Predictions on Tambryn's new plot, and anything else in the future you might see?**_

_**Your favourite character thus far? (only one ;)**_

_**Some of your favourite blog titles?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**We're here! Final ten baby! Congratulations to Fedora, Laise, Brigan, Genevieve, Nerys, Darek, Maxim, Tambryn, Finch and Jayden.**

**This story has been a rollercoaster thus far. I feel like I've had so many plots and sub-plots at play, it's been hard and exhilarating to keep up with.**

**Anyone notice the chapter name and how it fits? ;) Bliss being a she-wolf, and Magnus being a leader (alpha) put down by his pack (betas) like some wolves do in the wild. Plus, I thought it'd be perfect for ole' Fed.**

**Chapters have gotten shorter. Oh, and due to many requests, I've brought back the titles on the blogs! Each one will be updated with their chapter. So, WO and Lost do not have titles, but CA now does ;) tell me your thoughts!**

**This is also the only update before I go away on vacation. Both this, WO's epilogue/obituaries and Lost will all be updated on the week commencing the 22nd.**


	16. Open Your Eyes

**Open Your Eyes.**

_Take my hand, knot your fingers through mine. And we'll walk from this dark room for the last time._

* * *

**Brigan Knoll, District Three Male.**

* * *

The lights flicker on down the tunnel, coming straight for me. I close my eyes, but the sudden burst of light blinds me and I groan in pain, seeing stars dancing up on the brightened ceiling. The anthem begins to play, and the seal paints itself onto the concrete. After Bliss' downfall, only one cannon has sounded.

The boy from District Two flashes and holds. Then, it's gone, and so is he.

A whimper escapes my lips as darkness soon swallows everything else. I'm by myself, injured, left in a tunnel. I just want to curl into myself and pretend that none of this ever happened. That Alder and Adra never died, that Lux wasn't killed by Bliss nor that Bliss would betray us, or quite simply that I wasn't reaped. There are many other children, and yet, it was me. Why me? I never took out tesserae. My parents told me not to, and that it was pointless when it wouldn't save anyone from poverty.

They were right and my heart only hurts for them more.

I glance down at my leg, watching the blood slip into the water with ease, like it's pulled from my body. My heart hurts too, as if someone has cracked my skull open and took a hot piece of metal to it. Everything just numbs me and as much as I want to cry and scream, I know there's no point; no-one would hear me nor save me, and I'm as good as dead. I bite down on my lower lip to stop the whimper again, but the pain is too much. The physical and mental. I was toyed and played with, used like an object and then thrown away when it suited her. I actually cared for Bliss. She was my district partner, my ally, and I felt safe in her presence. All of that has been ripped away in a couple of minutes thanks to her... book?

I need to move. I need to act and stop being pitiful. I strain to sit up, but even the slow motion makes my head reel. With a banging head, stab wound in my thigh and damaged fingers, even if I could move, I'd probably be useless and like the walking dead.

I shouldn't be pitiful. I've never been before, but the hopelessness is smothering and, really, my odds are not stacked to my favor. I don't even want to list them anymore because it'd make this all worse. My burns and scars, they were to keep me rooted... I wish they would've kept me safe.

The slight splashing of water makes my eyes widen. I strain to turn around and see, but my head swishes at the slightest of movement and I feel so angry at myself and my body.

"T-Tambryn..." the voice drifts to me. Male, most definitely. I don't think they can see me, laid out on the watery floor, submerged by the darkness. "Tambryn, where are we going?"

Who's Tambryn? I try to recall, maybe even thinking of Mercury spreading her wisdom about the other tributes, but nothing hits me. There aren't many females, though, so it narrows it down.

"We need to get to the other side as fast as possible, Maxim," the female voice speaks up, voice magnified by the concrete tunnels. "If we don't move now, we will never make it and if we don't make it, then this would have been all for nothing."

"I just... I don't understand!"

More splashing, only slight though. Acid hits the back of my throat and I hold back the sickness rising from the amount of blood I'm probably losing. I blink a few times, but each time makes the darkness in the corners of my vision feel tighter and constricted. Everything feels heavy, like I'm made of lead.

"There's nothing to understand," her voice has dropped into a whisper, but not that friendly. I can feel the hardened edge to it. "We have, plain and simple," she breaths tightly, exhaling loudly. "Just do as I say. Please."

Their footsteps resound as they move away, and slowly, it drifts into nothing. Something butts against my head and I can't help the scream this time, bursting from my throat like a caged bird being released. I try to turn over, but the small waves make the object more clearer. I watch, wide-eyed, as Bliss' damp locks drift into view. They haven't collected her body, probably because I'm too close, preventing them. My heart sinks and bitter thoughts trace my mind; either that, or they're waiting for me to die so they can kill two birds with one stone.

It'd probably be better if they execute me. I'm sure they have a fantastic gizmo that could do the job. If I was better off, from a better district, I'd probably end up getting the job of constructing weapons and machinery. I would've loved to have been one of the mechanics to create the hovercrafts. The sad thing is, I probably wouldn't have met their standards. My prototypes had a tendency to explode or combust or even backfire. Nothing really worked, except that one machine that cut the canned goods at home open.

My mind drifts back to my parents. I wonder if they're watching? Bitter tears spring at my eyes at the possibility of my parents being forced to watch my death. I love them. I love them too much to see them in pain. I'd rather die quickly and efficiently, just to stop their suffering.

A mechanical crunch alerts my eyes upward. The tears leak freely. Here it goes: the weapon to take my life.

But, instead of expecting a spear to launch from the ceiling or even a flying knife, the walls move. I feel the water lap against my heated skin. I don't want to die. I don't want to die! I scramble against the ground pathetically, desperate to move away. Bliss' body drifts further and down, until her dead, cold eyes are staring back at me. More tears leak and the next scream traps itself in my throat. The wall scoops her body up, and moves it over. She rolls on top of me, our bodies pressed together and the emotional pain and betrayal welling up in my mind.

Finally, she's on top of me and I move pathetically against her larger body. I freeze when I feel the concrete graze against my overly large sweater. Anger bubbles underneath my skin and, with my better hand, I punch weakly against Bliss' body. Then again. The slight pain makes me feel better, as if I can release anger that holds itself underneath my heart and makes it heavy. I don't want to die an angry person; I want to die me, rooted and sane like I wanted.

It's all her fault. All her fault! She done this to me, she betrayed me, she helped kill me and I killed her. It's all her fault!

I feel my arm tense and then a crunch. I scream, wedging my arm from my body and leaving it free to hit Bliss' body again and again and again. Die! Leave me alone and die!

The wall grazes me completely and my whole body stiffens, heartbeat increasing as the tears flow like a river.

_Let me die!_

* * *

**Laise Revilyn, District Two Female.**

* * *

The next cannon startles me so much, I make Genevieve squeal with the pressure. She looks at me with her beautiful eyes and the once bitter part of me stays hidden, content with her and what she's done for me. She offers me a coy smile and slips her hand from mine.

"I didn't expect it to be so bad," I admit. I look to Fedora whose sat across from us, which really is surprising. Many would've expected him to run, but his prized pack stays together until each one is dead. "Guess Magnus' death is still lingering."

"Doesn't matter, though. He had to die eventually and frankly, he was just getting on my nerves," Fedora shrugs nonchalantly, like Magnus literally was nothing. He wasn't and I understand Fed's relationship with me completely. "Not to mention that he has been practically asking it. Wasn't you the one who he targeted often?"

"Yes, but I just... I don't know, I never expected it to happen really. I always imagined Magnus as someone who you'd have to burn and decapitate for him to truly die."

"I don't even care that he's gone," Gen interjects. "He taunted me about Lux too much, and you about your sponsor."

It's true. Part of me doesn't care that Magnus has gone - he's been asking for it for ages now, as Fedora said - but the idea was more pleasant than the actual action. I always imagined the gleeful smile on my face as Magnus died, but really, it shocked me. The beast that Genevieve unleashed to kill him, not to mention Fedora shooting two arrows when he could've easily just made a kill shot. No, each of them tortured him just a little. It doesn't affect me, the torture, but something has unsettled me and I don't quite know what.

"Does this mean that whatever Laise has, it's so important that it sent Magnus on a downward spiral?" Fedora directs to Genevieve. I glance at him, a playful smile on his face. "I mean, I was expecting you to use it on him, but then you didn't. If it was that important, you should've. Would've saved a whole lot of trouble when it came to taking him down. Genevieve wouldn't nearly have as many bruises."

My eyes narrow, accusing. "And your point is?"

He shrugs. "I don't even know. I'm just curious as to what you have, seeing as none of us have had sponsors yet."

Another true point. I'm the only Career to have obtained a sponsor gift. Does that mean that Fedora, and even Genevieve, aren't as popular to the Capitol? I would've imagined our little pack as being rather entertaining, considering the amount of betrayal that lurked beneath the surface.

"Do you really want to know, Fedora?" I challenge him. First Magnus, and now Fedora. I know he likes to debate and argue, seeing as I've seen him many times talk to Magnus as if he was an idiot.

"Go on then. Curious as to why you didn't use." his emotionless voice responds.

"I got a pouch of arsenic," I say, watching with slight delight as his eyes widen. "Yeah, thought that'd be your reaction. Quite a present to gain."

Genevieve chuckles behind me, but compared to before, there isn't anything malicious concerning Fedora. He makes me uncomfortable - he's probably the one to beat also - but I've never had to justify myself to Fedora compared to Magnus. With Magnus, if I breathed too heavily, he needed to know.

"Could have poured it into Magnus' mouth. I suppose he would have foamed at the mouth like a rabid wolf, and executing him would've been more poetic."

I nod along. "Yeah, well, got it for a bigger opponent, like the male from District Ten or the boys that keep evading us."

Come to think of it, since that latest cannon, we're down to the final nine. It's surreal, knowing that our ungrateful leader isn't here. Taking that position really did screw him over, like I predicted. Anyone could have died, but I suspect the little kid that Fed released is the victim. He played it good, but we knew. I didn't mind; the boy was small and meek and it was just a little biting at how cute he looked.

Fedora stands abruptly, retrieving his bow and satchel of arrows. I study them; down to single digits, he'll be empty soon. "I'm going to look around a bit more," he announces. "Maybe try and find another tribute."

"Yeah, good luck with that," and with that, Fedora disappears down a tunnel. I turn to Genevieve and smile. "I doubt he'll find someone. Something tells me that the tunnels are pretty much empty or smothered by the creepy shadows. What do you think is behind it? Definitely a Mutt, but what?"

"I think we should kill Fedora." she blurts out.

I blink a few times. Did she just say that? "Pardon?"

"Fedora. Your arsenic. Add the two together, and the best player will be knocked out," she offers simply. Her eyes are light, smile tight, but her words are cutting. Genevieve, completely complex. "We can do it soon. If we don't, Fedora will only get more dangerous."

I think about it for a moment, then, the arrow count flashes through my mind. "We should wait until he has no arrows. Then, he'll have to fight, and I'm almost sure that people who use long-distance weapons can't actually fight up close and personal."

"Makes sense. I mean, Fedora is a crack shot, but he's small and thin. I doubt his punch packs anything like Magnus' did."

"Then it settles," I smile, Genevieve's warmth radiating. I don't know what it is, but I don't normally care for people. My father was the most important person to me and still is, but that's it. Everyone else isn't worth it. Then I meet Genevieve and for some reason, she's slipped her way underneath my skin. "We'll wait for Fedora to be weaponless and then strike. Think we can do it?"

"Together, we can do anything." she smiles and everything is sealed. Fedora won't know what will hit him.

If the Capitol likes the betrayal, then more is about to come. Amity said that Careers are only good for that and, truth be told, we probably are. First Magnus and then Fedora. Just have to wait for the right time to make it work, otherwise, we'll be the pray that he loves to hunt: a challenge.

* * *

**Darek Jacquard, District Eight Male.**

* * *

All my life, I've wondered what it'd be like to kiss another boy. I knew, from a young age, but denied the entire process because I didn't fully understand it - I still don't now - whereas now, in a soul-crushing place, I've managed to find my feet like an awkward duckling. I knew I had strange feelings for Jacob long before I was reaped, but Jayden comes along and not only are their names similar, but personality is almost a dead certain.

"Hey buddy," Jayden calls from upfront. "I think I found the Cornucopia room."

Jayden, the boy who didn't try and kill me when I made the unwanted moves. "Why do you think that?" I ask.

Then, the green light blasts me as I emerge in the dome-like area. Here, I lost Helene... here, I almost lost my life and Jayden's. Here, I just knew, I knew that my feelings for Jayden skimmed over platonic like it didn't even exist.

"Stupid Careers," Jayden smirks and runs forward. "They've left behind everything!" he shouts, glee clear in his voice. "We can have a banquet."

"Do we actually want one?" I tease, and whilst it's friendly and slightly flirty - unintentional, of course - I know my boundaries now. I know the limit, the line, and when not to break them. "The Careers could come back at any second."

He zips open a bag and retrieves what looks like a jellied donut. Those things are rare in District Eight and my mouth waters ever so slightly. "To think, that brute from District Two nearly killed us and we lasted longer than him. Trained? More like trained monkeys." he jokes, taking a hefty bite from the dessert.

"Let's not get cocky now. Bad luck could be around us and I can't find any wood to tap," my eyes widen at the innuendo that I honestly, swear down, didn't mean to make. Jayden doesn't notice, thankfully, sitting eating like a crazed monster. I cough awkwardly and move closer to him. "What else you got?"

He rummages through the backpack and reveals a container of chicken wings. I whistle, plucking the lid off and smelling the enticing aroma. "I guess they really did have bad luck. This meal is great!"

I proceed to stuff my belly full. Content and exhausted, I sip at the water handed to me by Jayden and look around. Jayden keeps guard, but it's nice to know that we have each other's back. I keep my cudgel near me just in case, when an idea pops into my head. "Hey, Jayden?" he hums in response. "Didn't you say you wanted a slingshot?"

He waves the notion away. "Nah man, it isn't going to kill anyone and protect you, is it?"

"Protect me?" I snort. "Let's remember who punched whom."

Jayden smiles and my heart warms. I don't know what I'll do without him, and the scary thing is, this'll be over soon and I'll have to be without him, whether we both die or one of us miraculously wins. For some reason, being here with him sounds appealing and it shouldn't, it shouldn't be appealing, but anywhere with this boy would be. Time passes by slowly and I constantly keep an eye on the twelve dark tunnels descending into blackened madness.

"Yo, Darek?" I hum this time and turn to his voice. He's suddenly closer. When was he closer? "You know... you know when you, um, when you kissed me?"

My heart stiffens. I knew this would happen; it was only a matter of time before Jayden finally saw sense and wanted away from me as quick as possible. Every part of me sinks, but I still manage to look into his chocolate eyes. "...yeah?" I reply quietly.

"It wasn't... it wasn't your first kiss with a, you know, with a boy, was it?" he seems flustered and whilst it's cute, I can only feel distressed.

"It was," I admit. I would never have dreamed of gaining the balls to do something like that back in District Eight. In here, each moment could be my last and I needed to make the most of it. I needed to taste Jayden's lips whether he hated me for it after or not. "I've only... I've only kissed a girl before."

"Awh man." Jayden scratches the back of his neck and I tighten, ready to take the crushing blow of his departure. Instead, he crawls closer on his knees, cheeks still pink. "As I said, I um, I don't really see boys in the same way as you do... and it's cool, honestly!... but it means your first gay kiss sucked."

I swallow the lump, feeling my skin heat. "It wasn't... it wasn't that important to me."

"But you don't see," he whines and I have to hold back the giggle in my throat, replacing the lump. "I don't... I don't like the idea of someone I care about having a lousy time, if that makes sense."

"It really doesn't."

He laughs lightly. "Hear me out. If your first boy kiss..." he leans closer, eyes wide and terrified but holding an unknown strength that I've always admired about him. "If it was me, then, then you deserve for it to be proper and not, and not some quick, loose kinda thing."

"What are y-"

My words are cut off abruptly by Jayden's lips. He's strong and in control, moving them slowly and heated. I can feel his breath and I have to hold myself because I'm shaking so much with excitement and nerves and fear. He pulls away and smiles. "As I said, I don't like boys whatsoever. This... this won't be what you want it to be. Ever. Despite being in a game of last man standing," he pauses. "I just want you to have a proper first boy kiss. And if it's me, well, it's a new experience!"

My lips feel raw. I feel speechless and giddy and sick to my stomach. "You're something else, you know that?" I manage to choke out.

"Yeah, I know that," he laughs. "But I'm one hell of a best friend, if you ask me."

He goes back to his frosted fruit and I'm left in the aftermath of having something I've always wanted. I'm happy, elated, but the foreshadow is clear and the bitter thoughts bounce off of my skull: I'll be away from him soon, and I just don't know what to think about that. I don't want to think about that, not now, not ever.

* * *

**Finch Caraway, District Ten Male.**

* * *

We walk along the tunnel, still slightly shaking from the sudden collapse of the other we were in. For some reason, the idea has burned away against my skull and won't disappear. I could've been crushed to death by two concrete walls... it's almost as bad as electrocuting someone, but we've been there already. I glance over my shoulder slightly, Nerys' eyes locked on the floor and chewing on her bottom lip. Her backpack is slung over her shoulder, and knowing the taser is confined in the cotton makes me feel remotely comfortable. It'd be better if she just ditched the stupid thing, but this'll have to do.

"You okay?" I ask, watching her look up, nod, before returning her gaze back to the water beneath her boots.

She's been acting... off. As if she's growing more and more unstable. One moment, Nerys is fine and dandy, complimenting me and flirting, completely oblivious to my sexuality - which is nice, knowing you're not justified by it - and then she changes, becoming erratic or twitchy or sullen. Is it because I won't return her attention? The idea gnaws away at me, but I shouldn't be forced to, just to quench her obvious want. I mean, I didn't even want this alliance that much in the first place. She came to me, not the other way around.

"Finch?" I hum and turn around. "Don't you think we should head back to the Cornucopia?"

The question throws me off. "Why?" I ask.

"The feast might happen soon," she shrugs, voice abnormally timid for her. "I think it'd be best to set up camp there and wait for the table to rise."

"The feast is where the finale usually happens," I ponder, thinking back to the many years I've seen a Victor be announced with the metal table and golden skin as a backdrop. "Many die there. I doubt it'd be soon."

"You don't know that," she almost growls. My heart clenches and I watch her more carefully. "The rest of them could just die in a matter of seconds."

Whilst the thought is probably the best thing that could happen to us, I doubt it. About another day or so, even though I can't tell the difference. I can only assume that when the faces are shown, that it's technically night. Which means that cannon from earlier is still unannounced. Four more should die before they'd announce it, I believe.

"I still reckon we wait it out and just walk."

"They'll set the Mutts on us," she retorts, voice still... unnerving. "They're just waiting and if we get boring, we're dead."

"We can't just run because of possibilities, Nerys," I complain. She's acting strange, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to risk my life for her in a crazed state. "It'd be more reckless to make a beeline for it. The rest of the Careers could be there for all we know and I'm definitely not in the mood to fend them all off after almost dying myself," I pause and allow the dust to settle. Nerys just blinks a couple of times. "I'm sorry," I quickly say. "I just don't think it's a good idea at all."

"When you take leadership, you just become so much hotter." she purrs and I recoil, as if my skin is crawling with bugs.

"N-Nerys, don't talk like that."

"Why?" she purrs again. "Don't you like being compliment?" she stalks forward and I step back, instantly regretting pushing her over the edge. "I thought a hot guy like you would get complimented all the time. I bet girls are lining up to take a turn on you, won't you let me jump the queue just a little?" she pouts out her lip now and my stomach flips, something so unsettling about this.

"One of us will be dead eventually, I-I don't think it'd be wise for the friendship," I counter and take a step back, carefully edging myself around the eggshells that is her sanity, apparently. "Besides, I don't think the Capitol will appreciate a sex scene on the screen. Pretty sure little monster children watch us."

"They probably have us shipped already. Ninch or Ferys?" she steps forward and as I inch away, she clamps her small hand around my wrist. Again, my skin crawls. Everything feels heightened and I have to fight back the images flashing across my mind of Larsen grabbing my fist, sneering in my face and taunting me to fight back like a man and not the girl I am. All my life, it's defined me and even now, Nerys is doing the same, forcing sex on me when my own sexuality has confused and corrupted me for years before I accepted it. If I tell, she might be just like Larsen.

Anger floods through my veins and I wretch my wrist from her grip. "I think you need to reevaluate yourself, Nerys."

"The only thing I need to do is take your clothes off." she growls, and with it, a flash of electricity appears from behind her back and shoots into my neck. My whole body racks in pain and a scream erupts from my throat. The damn taser! I fall to the floor, hands vibrating as I try and move through the water. My eyelids keep closing and I have to force, no, will, them to stay open. Every part of me is screaming in pain as I try and put distance between me and Nerys.

Another crack of electricity licks at my back. The immense pain forces everything to shut down and darkness comforts me.

When I come around, my vision is blurred. I peel my heavy eyelids open, panic seizing in my chest. I need to get away! She's going to kill me!

Nerys comes into view steadily. The spark of blue instantly forces my eyes open. I now know how the cows feel.

"God, you are so adorable when you sleep, I could just eat you." she growls. Her face, it twitches, and all the puzzle pieces together ironically and I feel more stupid than ever. Like with Larsen and Calvin, I've been used for personal gain.

I try to speak back, but my tongue is fuzzy and thicker.

"You can't speak my dear. As much as I want that tongue in every nook and cranny of mine, I'd rather you sit back and enjoy what's going to happen to you," she pauses, tongue swiping across her tongue. "Or don't, it doesn't matter."

She moves forward with a sultry step and Mina's behaviour flashes through my mind. As much as I want to forget them, my past is a big part of who I am. Because of them, I changed. I don't get walked over.

And Nerys can't do it either.

As she moves forward and brandishes the taser once more, I flip, clasping her wrist. Her eyes snap dark when she realises I'm going to fight, but that doesn't stop me as I yank with all my might, pulling Nerys towards me. I deflect the taser and it hits the concrete wall to my right, whilst I attempt to wrap my arm around Nerys' neck. She's strong, resilient, and squirms against my grip. I feel her breath against my neck and then push her forward.

She stumbles and I jump up. With a growl, she flicks the taser, but as the electricity roars to life, it dies out. The crash has destroyed it.

"That's fine. I never had one of these when I used to take all my other victims."

With that, she lunges forward, teeth bared and nails ready to claw. I move as much as possible, but the nails claw down my face and I screech, sending my fist into her chest.

"Never try and hit a girl in the boob!" she howls and sends a backed hand against my cheek. My head whips to the side, the stinging rawness bringing tears to my eyes. As I look back at her, she does it again, sending me reeling. As I struggle to compose myself, Nerys knees me into the side, pushing me away from her. The water splashes and I bend over, cupping my hands and sending the water into her oncoming face. It does nothing - she doesn't melt like she should've - but gives me enough time to sweep my hand out, bringing her to the ground with a sickening crack. I move swiftly and climb on top of her, pinning her to the watery floor. She thrashes around, screaming and howling before calming down.

"You know, I've always liked a bit of domination. I could get used to this." she purrs again, and at that moment, I realise that we don't actually have any bladed weapon. A taser and knuckle-dusters.

Sickness rises in my throat when I realise what I have to do. I don't want to, and the rational, sane part of my brain reminds me of the good things that Nerys brought into my life.

"I'm gay," I suddenly say and her face falls. "Yep, one hundred percent homosexual," she needs to hear this, to hear me confirm that she never, ever has a chance. I feel like I owe her that after she saved me from being alone, saved my life and saved me from spiralling out of control. "I'm sorry."

As soon as she looks sane, her face snaps red and eyes wild. "I'm going to kill you!" she screams, but it's too late.

Fighting the acid emerging in my throat, I wrap my hand into her hair, pull it back and slam her head against the concrete with a stomach-churning crunch. Her lips quiver and I can no longer look, normal Nerys returning briefly. She has to die... I close my eyes and whip her head again and again and again, the haunting bangs resounding in my skull and making me want to puke and finally, finally, a cannon rockets throughout and I let go, fingers stiff and bitter tears on my eyelashes.

I rise slowly, unable to look at whatever I done. I killed her and there's no going back.

Thank you Nerys, for everything, despite all your crazy.

* * *

**Open Your Eyes by Snow Patrol.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Brigan Knoll, District Three.**

******Nerys West, District Five.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Olive, Brigan was my spirit animal, but he wouldn't have survived.**

**Immy, Nerys was just... unnerving. Every aspect about her brought about a different kind of tribute that was liked and hated, all for her creativity. I'll miss the little rapist/nympho.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Favourite segment in this chapter?**_

_**Thoughts on who you want and think will make the final five? (Three more deaths).**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**So yes. For anyone confused, Tambryn's little... escapade, was indeed, just a dream (to us) but a psychic/fate calling of sorts (for her). It never actually happened, but for her, it's a twist in fate that she must follow.**

**Four more chapters, not including the final fight nor the epilogue ;o so really, there's only two normal game chapters left where five have to die! This has flown by and been so much fun :')**

**So yeah, nothing too important. Just a little note that on the Collection of the Damned blog, I have added a map of Panem with district locations (please note that I'm British, and therefore, have no American knowledge. The states won't really look the same after everything that has happened and therefore, don't tell me that District Nine should be, I don't know, North, because that's where grain comes from... everything has changed and I've adapted it to my needs). It takes canon information from Katniss, as well as EsmeraldaVerse information that I've been world-building together.**

**Also, a question: alongside my SYOTs, how would you feel about a series of one-shots concerning my EsmeraldaVerse Victors? It'll be a mixture of thoughts in the arena, before or after, maybe when mentoring a tribute and just basically anything to build their characters more. One chapter per Victor (around 1,000 words or so), updated alongside the SYOTs? Lemme know!**


	17. Now

**Now.**

_But were we indestructible? I thought that we could brave it all._

* * *

**Fedora Clos, District One Male.**

* * *

By the time I return to Laise and Genevieve, nearly all of my arrows are gone. I went away with nine, and now, I have about three left. I didn't plan for anything to really happen, but as I approached the metal bars once more, something with red eyes emerged from the shadows. The hunter in me screamed and I shot the arrow without thinking. On impulse, I went to a place that was home and comfort and I unleashed an arrow. I didn't expect for more to appear.

"Well, I think I know what's behind the bars," I say as I turn the familiar corner. Laise looks up, eyes heavy. "It made a squelch, so there wasn't any fur. And yes, it's a Mutt. We all knew that much."

"That's great," Laise drawls. "Did you find any tributes?" she asks. "I'm almost sure they're hiding around the Cornucopia."

"The feast will be soon, so they'll be drawn out eventually. We can wait it out."

Laise snorts but I let it go. None of us have really been friends - since it's clear where we all stand - so I'm not going to complain when Laise or Genevieve are less than welcoming. With our leader dead, Dione having died ages ago and now Lux, the scissors that was tearing us apart, dead, we're left with three people who are strong, formidable and relentless. Laise and Genevieve might have an inner alliance - not long after actually making out - but I still have the advantage. I mean, Laise hasn't even made a kill yet, whereas Genevieve killed our pathetic leader and I've killed more than my fair share. If anything, Laise should be the prime target.

Of course, me being the hunter I am, I've probably been in the firing line since the beginning, before Magnus played mind games he couldn't handle.

I take a seat and swing my satchel onto my lap. I count the arrows again, being careful and precise. Three left, two already stained crimson. With seven tributes left besides myself, I need to be more careful. I've never been reckless before - but Aphrodite did say that the arena can teach you things about yourself that you never knew. I guess, for me, it was that I'm not always methodical. Sometimes, I let emotions overcome me.

"So what are we going to do?" Laise breaks the silence first. "Are we just going to sit here till three more die?"

"I don't think we have any other option," I counter. "We could go hunt, but as I said, I found nothing nearby. With less numbers, it's more than likely the tunnels have increased in quantity."

"Why that? Why have they not decreased? If they were able to hold twenty-four tributes, then they're too large for eight of us. It makes more sense to decrease them."

"That's what the iron bars could be for?" Genevieve supplies. "For all we know, they could be moving around and taking away tunnels. I mean, we keep running into them, even when we go out of our way to avoid going in a circle. It's more logical."

I nod slowly, playing with the metal tip of the clean arrow. "I suppose you have a valid point. As I said, it means that we sit here and wait for the others to kill each other."

We already know who has died. With District Three now wiped out, as well as the girl from District Five, we're left with the obvious. The strongest, most capable target is the boy from District Ten. He had a good score, he was strong, and I'm almost sure that he's lasted long on sponsors. He has everything that's admired.

The bear tooth hangs heavier around my neck. Has Platinum not bothered to sponsor me? Silver, she was a good trainer, has she got no faith in me? I always assumed that my status as a hunter would get me far. But, according to the lack of presents, I must not be as liked as I believed. It's sad; I left, and my own loved ones have brushed me away like I was nothing. I no longer exist, clearly.

Genevieve shifts closer to Laise. Her wounds are clear, like battle scars. I trace the scar on my hand that traces from my palm, all the way around to the base of my thumb. A coyote who I got too close to. The pain and blood was worth it; a coyote is very rare and expensive, with meat sold and fur changed into decorative pelts. The head hangs on my father's wall, a proud moment.

Laise offers out food and everyone takes some. We sit silently, chewing away on stale bread and hardened nuts. We just... wait.

After about an hour of silence and no cannons, it becomes clear that Laise was right in the sense that we need to hunt. Sitting around and waiting could take days, and really, those beady red-eyed Mutts will be sent on us without a doubt. I stand, swinging the satchel onto my shoulder and preparing the bow. "We should move then."

"Oh, really?" Laise says. She's been whispering with Genevieve for ages now, but I haven't bothered to question it. They've always had an... interesting relationship. "If you say so, Mister Mercenary."

I begin to walk down the tunnel, hearing the girls get up. There's a bit of a shuffle and, with acute hearing, I listen out for watery footsteps.

Instead, one of the girls is running. Realisation dawns on me and I spin around, whipping an arrow into the bow... but before I can shoot, Laise grasps the string, pulling the entire bow downwards as I release the arrow towards her foot instead. She grunts but manages to avoid the blow. I kick out, hitting her knee as we struggle. She's trying to disarm me and my mind races. I need a solution!

Quickly, instead of pulling, I push forward, catching her off-guard. Laise stumbles backwards and I sweep my leg out, successfully bringing her to the floor. Genevieve flashes in the background, standing through the filtered light, but she doesn't react. I move to stomp down on Laise's chest but she rolls over, grasping my ankle and digging her nails into my flesh. I shout, fingers desperately trying to grab another arrow but I fumble, unable to actually clasp it.

That's when Genevieve flashes in front of my face before her hands are on my chest, pushing me over, coinciding with Laise's deathly grip. I fall down, landing on the arrows. Everything inside of me screams in urgency but I barely groan, focusing too much on moving. I kick out hard, hearing a satisfying squelch as Laise screams. Then, Genevieve is on my chest, sending a punch into my throat. Everything suddenly feels blurry and stars explode in my vision, the burning, tight feeling in my throat making my eyes water.

A part of me knows this is the end as Genevieve straddles me, making my lack of oxygen even more constricted. Everyone will be watching me fail and the thought makes me sick to my stomach. I hear Laise moving, but I'm too busy gasping for precious air to even know what she's doing. As she returns - nose pouring with blood and twisted funny - I see the little pouch of white powder and know what's about to happen.

"Pour it in his mouth," Genevieve commands and Laise bends over, eyes burning with fire and fury. She plucks the bag open and hooks her thumb on my bottom lip, which literally makes me look like a fish out of water, gasping and gurgling. "Do it." Genevieve says again.

I try to close my lips, but there's no point. There's no way to fight this. Tricked, deceived, all because I stayed. The arsenic falls down my throat and the burning takes over. It rips my body open, like a hot knife carving through vital organs. I feel the blood on my tongue, weighing it down. Everything suffocates me in one form or another. With watery eyes, Laise's broken face is the last thing I see before darkness takes me.

* * *

**Genevieve Arlen, District Four Female.**

* * *

He's dead. It actually worked. I wait on his chest, feeling the rise and fall slow down. It takes a moment for him to still and then, his cannon sounds throughout the tunnel. I pant a few times, before looking up at Laise.

"He's actually gone, Laise," I mutter. Laise falls down onto her knees, the heel of her palm pressed against her bloody nose. I stand up, knowing what to do. "Laise, he's dead, you can leave him now." I say again but looking over my shoulder, Laise's numb eyes are just watching his lifeless corpse. Oh, right. It's her first kill, isn't it. I was shocked too over that District Five boy, but I guess you just have to adapt and grow, like nature intends.

I walk slowly over to our supplies, bending over and picking up the rapier. There's no going back now. We're so close; I'm so close to winning.

When I turn around, she still hasn't moved nor noticed my disappearance. She won't know... she won't feel a thing, I reassure myself. I don't want her eyes to bore into my mind as they lose colour. I don't want to kill Laise, but there's no going back, there's no changing anything... she was going to have to die eventually.

Her head suddenly snaps at me and her eyes turn accusing. "W-What are you doing with that?" she asks normally, but I'd prefer venomously. "You said he's dead. His cannon has sounded. There's no need to stab him, Gen."

"It's not for him." I mutter.

She blinks a few times, wiping away the overflowing blood. "W-What?"

"I said it's not for him," I echo. "This couldn't go on much longer."

"So you're going to kill me, is that it?" she shouts irrationally, face contorting between anger and sadness. "So what, you just used me to kill Magnus and Fedora and now I'm suppose to die willingly? I-I thought... I thought we, we were-"

"We were what? That we would go to the final together? And then what, Laise? We'd have to kill each other then!"

"But then it wouldn't feel like a betrayal!" she screams.

I gulp. I wasn't expecting that. My mind begins to argue, but I can't go back, I just can't. I've seen too many things, things that'll forever haunt me. I can only fix myself back in District Four. I was stupid to come here, believing that doing this would solve all of my problems. I lost Lux, and I can never, ever explain to people why I felt so bad... I abandoned him. He was my district partner, I vaguely knew him through the grapevine, and when he wanted help, I didn't bother trying because I was thinking of myself and only myself. I just left him without trying. He needed me and I brushed him off.

The silence is thick. Laise stands up from Fedora's body, her own vibrating with mixed emotions. She steps forward, but on instinct, the rapier flinches forward.

"Gen..." she trails off, words lost in the air as the answer is more than clear. Her lips press into a line, tearful eyes boring at me. "Fine. At least let me get a weapon, you know, to do the right thing before you try and murder me?"

I drop the rapier to my side and allow Laise to pass. She quickly picks up her sword, moving it between her hands with her back towards me. I think it would've been easier if Fedora shot her, rather than kick her. I wouldn't have to feel so... guilty about this. She turns around finally, brandishing the weapon with clarity.

"You know, I thought we were good friends," she lowers the sword into a fighting stance. "I never imagined... I never even thought that one of us would kill the other."

I angle my rapier. "Even after the bump in the road?"

She smiles softly. "Even after that."

Then, with no words to say, I lunge forward.

Laise is quickly to block the first attack, catching my blade and twisting it around. I put more strength into the blow and win it back, my eyes carefully ghosting over her as I push her blade aside, leaving her vulnerable. I stab forward but she arches backwards, avoiding it once more. Our steps ring out in the darkened tunnel as I push the rapier forward again. It only just misses her, silver cutting through the sweater and revealing a red line. Laise grits her teeth and swings her sword wildly. I try to move, but the tip crosses the top of my hand, causing me to drop the sword as I cry out in agony.

Laise takes advantage and stabs forward. I fall to the floor, sickness rising in my chest as I scramble for the rapier beneath the murky waters. I clasp the metal as Laise's boot collides into my stomach. I fall back, gasping.

"You didn't have to do this. We could've took the others down and maybe..." she trails off again, every answer leading back to one of us dying, clearly.

I use her confusion against her. I grab the blade - metal cutting into my palm, but the pain is but a price - and pull her forwards. With two options, Laise stumbles forward, a mirror image to what I witnessed Fedora do moments ago. But, because of that, Laise knows how to counter it and the heel of her boot hits my hip with a sickening crunch. I roll over, pulling my rapier with me as I stagger to my feet. Laise's eyes flash with worry and then, she turns around and sprints.

Oh no she doesn't! Despite every urgency in my body, this has to end now, otherwise it'll only be harder. Moving the blade properly into my hand, I make chase.

Running through the tunnels, I hear Laise's footsteps and can see, faintly, her blonde hair whipping in and out of the darkness. I track her, like a predator to prey, and my mind reminds me of Fedora and how proud he must've felt when hunting all those times. With each dead ally - whether I cared about them or not - leaves behind a trace of some sort of redeeming memory. I run around the corner, Laise leaping from the shadows with a battle cry.

It takes me off-guard and her blade cuts down my side. I scream again, feeling the world blur at the edges of my vision. I try and counter back by swinging my rapier much like a sword, but Laise is able to not only deflect it, but bring her sword around and cut me finely across the stomach. The world shatters just a little bit more.

Then, out of nowhere, I gain adrenaline and bring my rapier out, lunging forward with fury. Laise is able to dodge it partially, but the blade pierces her stomach and blood pours from the exposed wound. She howls in pain, tears springing at her eyes. I feel my own tears and clutch at my burning stomach. I don't want to die. I don't want Laise to die... but I want to go home.

Laise staggers forward again, eyes betrayed and lonely and angered. She swings her sword. I catch it in my hand again, pushing this time to cause her to stumble. I push the rapier forward again, and this time, the hot tip shoots straight through her gut. She howls again, but somewhere, somehow, she builds up enough adrenaline to power her sword through the pain... and straight into my own gut. White, hot pain scorches through my body as she weakly pulls it out. I struggle to stand as Laise falls over. The water around her turns red as her face slowly turns white, apart from the bloodied nose.

I finally fall to my knees. As time slows down, I fall onto my back. The pain is unbearable, making me want to scream and cry at the same time, despite my throat feeling raw and ripped.

"G-Gen..." Laise says meekly. I turn my head to the side, seeing Laise looking at me with watery, glossed-over eyes. "...I-I'm sorry..."

Her hand weakly moves across the watery floor towards me. This is it, for her and for me. I can feel it, deep inside my chest, a nagging, hateful feeling that tells me I don't deserve to live and I won't be much longer. Tears build up more as I grip Laise's hand with the last amount of my strength.

We lay there, bleeding, until Laise's cannon finally sounds. I choke out a strangled cry, her cold hand dropping from mine.

I killed her. I killed the one person I could trust and chose to betray. I did it, but it doesn't feel so good.

Everything continues to grow dark and the tears slowly stop spilling. Each breath sends my body through a new kind of pain. For the first time, ever since the accident and I lost my sister, death seems to be a comfort from pain and misery. With icy, welcoming arms, I'm wrapped up into the darkness of my mind. I allow everything to go limp as the last smile I'll ever do curls my lips.

I'm greeted with the warm smile of my sister and finally, I can die happily. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the muted sound of my heart giving up.

* * *

**Jayden Perona, District Twelve Male.**

* * *

"Whoa." Darek says, as the anthem blares.

Three cannons, basically one after the other. We've made the final five without even worrying or thinking about it too much. Somewhere, somehow, the other tributes have fallen consecutively. The sickly green neon lights around us turn white, as the music soon turns into a picture on the dome ceiling. The view is hard, but I watch as the first face takes away my breath.

"The Career from One... he's dead," Darek mumbles in awe. He was probably the biggest threat left, what with his arrows and all. As his face transforms into that of the District Two female, Laise, Darek even lets out a dark chuckle. "I can't believe it. They must've killed each other."

I get what he means. With two Careers dead, our chances are soared through the darkened roof of this place. I finally feel like I can breathe.

The last face turns out to be the final Career of the monstrous pack, the girl from District Four. All three Careers, wiped out one after the other. I can only hope that they killed each other, otherwise... one of the other tributes is a bigger threat than we believed.

"Who does that leave?" Darek asks as the room turns green again.

"Lower districts," I confirm. "You, me, the pair from District Nine and then Finch from District Ten," I pause. "This year, a lower district is going to have more food."

For us, that's what it's about. Sure, we all want to win, but our districts are literally begging for more food - due to our poverty - and they rely on us. Last year, with the girl from District Five winning, they got a years worth of food. District Twelve could do with that; District Eight just the same.

"Tributes, tributes," Gregor Flack's breaks through the silence. "Well done to you all. For your participation, we are now holding a feast. Each of you needs something, wants something, and soon enough, it will be within a backpack marked with your district number by the Cornucopia. Think about it, tributes, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

I look to Darek and smile. "You know, this means that when the feast happens, we're in the perfect place."

"That's true," he smiles softly, but it's conflicted; I know Darek enough now to know when he's not fully happy. Maybe he's sad, realising that the end is near and one of us will die. I knew it would happen eventually, but it's shocking... I always imagined one of us dead by this point. Luck has been on our side. "I guess we were lucky," he suddenly adds. "Walking onto this has been the help we needed."

"Yeah, and it wasn't even planned." I smirk, and take another bite into a powdered cake.

Silence falls on us, and surprisingly, I don't think about the kiss. Okay, that's a lie, I have. I don't like Darek in that way - I even had my eye on a girl before I was stripped of my life - but I feel contented, I guess, knowing that I gave Darek something that no-one else could. He got his first boy kiss from me when he could easily die. He felt that comfortable to come out to me, that it makes me happy, because it shows the lengths we've grown in this alliance. Bliss and Lux... they are a thing of the past, and whilst it still feels bitter, I know I made the right choice. For me, and for Darek.

Darek stands up after a while and begins rummaging through the Cornucopia. We need weapons, I guess. We have our cudgel and my fresh knife, but you can never be too prepared. If anything, we need more, just in case we lose something.

"Hey Jayden?" Darek shouts, voice echoed from the golden skin.

"What?"

He emerges from the shadows carrying a spear, almighty and strong in his hand. "I was thinking... before the feast actually arrives, do you think we should get rid of some things?"

"Get rid of some things?" I repeat.

"You know, like the weapons," Darek shrugs. "I was thinking that if... when we need to fight, we should try and ensure an advantage. If we ditch all the weapons in here, the others will only have what they've brought on their way. They won't be able to grab, say, a sword and try and split us like a sausage."

I nod along. "That's a pretty cool idea, man," I smile, standing up. "Where should we put them though?"

"Well you know the tunnels move sometimes?" he suggests with a sly smile I nod again. Sitting here, we watched one of the darkened tunnels' shadows spin around. Another mind trick by the Games, another sense of... suffocation. "We store it all in there and see if the tunnel can lose them. It's a quick-fire way because if we just leave them there, one of the tributes might pick them up."

I ponder the thought. Darek's pretty clever, even if he says he's average. He isn't; he doesn't credit himself enough. "Problem is... the tunnel might not spin in time. You know, they could come barreling out from a tunnel and then we'd be screwed because the items would still be here."

"Then what?"

I step forward and start looking through the orange backpacks. I search and scour, trying to find one thing. Then, as I unzip the third one, I find it - a coil of string. "Here," I show it to him. "We could tie this to the Cornucopia's tail and then take it with us. We could venture deep into the tunnels to drop them around, and then we wouldn't lose our way back."

I can't fight the grin on my face. I was never this smart, this quick and thoughtful, but I learned in here that you need to adapt, because adapting means staying alive another couple of hours. Darek, for instance, has better hearing after running into the storm drain twice now. I'm less slow and more swift.

Darek grins too, eyes bright. "That's a wicked idea," he says in awe. But, then, his face softens. "...what are we going to do for the final fight, though?"

That's something I considered but tried to avoid. As I said, I always thought one of us would be dead by now. I gulp thickly, feeling the heat suffocating me through the thick, woolly sweater. I move forward and place my hands on Darek's shoulders. "We fight together, like the team we've always been," I suggest. "And we see what happens... I don't, I can't predict the outcome, but we work together to take them down. We don't... we don't let them split us up."

Without a second thought, I wrap Darek into another hug. It's going to be hard when one - or maybe even both - of us dies, but in here, with him, I've had a surprisingly surreal and okay-ish time. Darek made it easier for me and I'd like to think I did the same for him. He hugs me back tighter and it's right here, right now, that I want to remember as I fight alongside someone who is like my best friend.

* * *

**Tambryn Delevingne, District Nine Female.**

* * *

I march through the tunnel without letting Maxim go. He's important, he's needed, he's what fate wants and I need to do it, I must do it, because it's my destiny like it always has been. When I saw Maxim on that day, I knew what I had to do. I never knew what we would do - my palms would tingle and I would feel my dreamcatcher hanging heavier - but I never understood. I found Grey, another important part, and then Harlow, an even more important part. They increased the desire in the Earth.

"Tambryn..." Maxim says for about the twentieth time in the last couple of minutes. "Where are we heading?"

"We're heading to freedom," I repeat. "I keep telling you that fate wants this, Maxim. That's why people have died... they've died for us. They've died so that we can complete what is intended."

There's a slight pause. "And what's that?" he asks, voice timid.

I halt to a stop, spinning around and dropping to my knees. I take Maxim's smaller hands into mine and smile softly. "I can't tell you, Maxxy. You just need to trust me. You trust me, don't you?"

"I always have done," he responds, voice strong. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't trust you," he slides his hands from mine. "I just think you're acting a little... erratic, since you fell unconscious."

My face hardens. "Harlow died for this to happen," I speak lowly. "Do you want to upset her? Put her death in vain?"

His eyes widen. "Of course not!"

"Then you need to trust me, keep quiet, and follow me," I add sweetly. "Please, Maxim, I can't stress the point enough that you need to not ask questions."

He falls silent and allows me to take his hand one more time. I grasp it desperately, standing up and tugging him along. Thankfully, we're able to make time. We rush down the tunnels without thinking, cutting corners and avoiding the dead ends. I don't know where we're heading, but it's close, I can feel it in my heart. We need to reach there before it's announced. We need to get there and I need to complete my task... it all became clear after the dream. I was hunted, ready to be crucified like a historical witch in the textbooks from school, and then it made sense. Seeing Glenn, the puzzle pieces began to come together.

Then, the static filters through the air.

"Tributes, tributes," Gregor Flack's voice hits us, soft but clear. I freeze, feeling every part of my body tense up. "Well done to you all. For your participation, we are now holding a feast. Each of you needs something, wants something, and soon enough, it will be within a backpack marked with your district number by the Cornucopia. Think about it, tributes, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

My heart constricts and I can feel the beads of sweat building on my forehead. I grip so hard onto Maxim, he squeaks in pain.

"Sorry..." I mumble, the thoughts invading my mind. It's too soon. I don't have enough time! "We need to run now."

"W-Why?" he asks. I would tell him about the questions before, but Maxim has always been sweet and kind. I like him, I always have, but it's important he knows his place when it comes down to things. I can't tell him though. If I tell him... the consequences could be extraordinary. No, no, he can't know but he needs to co-operate. "Tambryn, you didn't answer me," his voice cuts me from my thoughts again. "Why do we need to run?"

"You need to trust me."

"Why do you keep saying that?" he begins to squirm his hand from my sweaty one, but I clasp harder until he complains. "Tambryn, you're hurting me!"

"You need to trust me," I say without focus. "Just trust me and everything will be okay. I promise, everything will be okay."

I start to move, this time dragging him along more unwillingly. He struggles and tries to free himself, but with each movement, I clench around his fingers until he moans. I'm sorry, Maxim, but I have to do this. I have to complete fate's wishes. This will better both of us. Harlow, Nadia, Grey, the girl from District Twelve... their deaths won't be for nothing. Fate will help them, give them the glory and wonder they deserve, and Maxim... Maxim will be okay. I'll be okay.

We move faster and faster. Hurry, Tambryn! Run faster!

I pull Maxim around the corner fast. He's so focus on trying to keep up and not fall over, he hasn't been pulling for a while. I'm lost, I'm trapped. A scream summons in my throat but then, at the end of a very long tunnel, I see the luminous green light. It's not a trick this time; I just know it.

"We're going to the feast!" I sing-song, rushing faster. Maxim keeps up and his frantic breath drifts to me. I just know, I just know I can do this.

We reach the end but two voices hit me and we freeze. Maxim almost slams into my back, but as he goes to speak, I clamp my hand over his mouth. His eyes widen in fear but there's nothing to fear, Maxim, because it's going to be over soon. The conclusion is upon us. I glance through the green light, seeing two figures, two boys... the ones from District Eight and Twelve. I watch them carefully, their forms apart but words clearly being shared. I listen carefully, keeping Maxim pressed behind my legs.

"We fight together, like the team we've always been," the slightly shorter boy says, nearing the taller, lithe one. "And we see what happens... I don't, I can't predict the outcome, but we work together to take them down. We don't... we don't let them split us up."

They swoop in for a hug. They linger, just for a while, before they break.

The conclusion is near. I can feel it in my fingers.

Don't worry, Maxim, because everything is going to be alright. It'll be alright.

* * *

**Now by Paramore.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Fedora Clos, District One.**

******Laise Revilyn, District Two.**

******Genevieve Arlen, District Four.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Ethan, Fedora was ingenious. I loved the way you added woods and pelts and hunting into a district that, as far as I know, has never had it.**

**Vix, Laise was complex and a joy to write. I'll forever miss one of my favourite Careers ;_;**

**Lastly, June, Genevieve was loved by many for her complicated personality. She was both a joy and pain to write, but it made her better than I could've imagined.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**Favourite segment in this chapter?**_

_**Final three thoughts and wishes?**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**There we have it: our final five is Darek, Tambryn, Maxim, Finch and Jayden.**

**For the first time in any of my SYOTs, a Career has not made it to the final five, let alone the final three! Claustrophobia's winner will most definitely be an outer tribute. I'm proud of that, stirring some things up! I hope Fedora's death and Genevieve and Laise's fight was good enough... it was difficult to portray Laise's feeling of betrayal and Gen's feeling that she had no other choice.**

**So yeah. To clarify, Tambryn has never, ever manipulated Maxim into anything. She truly does care for him but fate has always been her priority and the reason she has done what she has done (killing Wisteria, taking in Harlow, etc.)**

**And yes, Jayden and Tambryn's POVs overlapped to coincide with each other.**

**Three more chapters remain of Claustrophobia, woo!**


	18. Little Talks

**Little Talks.**

_We used to play outside when we were young, and full of life and full of love._

* * *

**Maxim Bauer, District Nine Male.**

* * *

I can't see past Tambryn's legs, but something in my gut tells me that it's probably better if I don't. I'm not stupid, I'm not a child... I've seen death now, even became an accomplice. I think I know whether or not something is in my best interest. But Tambryn... she's been like a comfort blanket, even though eventually, every child has to lose that. Should I walk from Tambryn? Each time I make a slight movement, her grip becomes tighter, as if she's afraid I'll slip from her fingers like water.

She's changed, that much is obvious. Despite my sore head and thudding heart, I can still see the clear difference in her. She didn't even react to Harlow's death the way she should of. She was... distant, almost unhinged from reality. I kept telling myself that she was in shock, but now, something in the back of my mind is telling me that it was never shock.

"Just a few more seconds," Tambryn mumbles, but not at me. She's just... saying it, as if she's encouraging herself for something. "It's okay Maxim," she directs at me. "I'll be able to fix everything now. Fate will prevail."

She goes on about fate as if it's some higher being. This whole time, I've followed Tambryn, her different beliefs guiding us. I stayed quiet, despite not really believing it myself. Then, we find Harlow, and she believes in something similar but vastly different. One way or another, I've been obedient, keeping secrets and quietly following behind.

Well, no longer.

I use my other hand and strike Tambryn's side. She yelps and I free my fingers, quickly flexing them as I stagger back. She whips around, her eyes no longer... no longer alive.

"Maxim!" she howls, but I turn around and run. I hear the splashes of her following me closely, her breaths loud and clear. "Maxim! Stop it right now!"

I feel the terror lodge in my throat, stopping me from replying. I can hear the sound of water being thrown into the air and Tambryn, her pleas and panting making me feel guilty. Don't Maxim, don't feel guilty. She's up to something, something you don't want a part of.

Turning the corner, I clip my shoulder, the pain producing a scream.

Tambryn's hand clasps my wrist and, as I pull forward, she yanks back. I get caught in between, tripping up over my own feet. I fall into the water and Tambryn's hand roughly move over my body, attempting to grab something to her advantage. I bite down on my tongue, regretting the thoughts in my head. I spin over, see Tambryn's face, and strike with my palm. Her head snaps to the side, the sound making my skin crawl.

I gulp when it takes Tambryn far too long to turn around. I blink a few times, the tension tight but the situation making me feel even worse. A silent Tambryn is far more serious than a shouting, crazed, fate-driven Tambryn. She went quiet after killing the District Twelve girl. She went quiet after awakening from unconsciousness. Each time, something inside of her died.

"I-I'm sor-ry..." I whisper, voice on the verge of breaking.

She looks at me now, eyes hurt. "I'm only trying to do what's best for us," she recites, as if she's said it all the time to me. "I've only ever done that for us. Grey, Nadia, Harlow... they were to help you."

"Help me?" I mumble. My chest tightens, as if this is something I do not want to hear. "W-What do you mean?"

"They were important pieces to the puzzle," she clarifies. "They changed things, edited them, made it so that fate can take a correct force."

With each sweet word, she doesn't let up. Her hands press my shoulders against the watery floor, knees on either of my side. She has me pinned, trapped, and I feel like I'm suffocating underneath her weight and emotions. I feel like I'm betraying her, like I'm doing something bad when she's done nothing but good. Am I that despicable? It was easier when I didn't feel much emotion.

"I don't... I don't know what you're doing," suddenly, I regret running. Tambryn wasn't going to hurt me, not after this speech... but why didn't she say? Why keep it a secret, like I was too naive to understand? "Just tell me... please... I just, I want to know why we're - why fate - wants us at the Cornucopia."

"When the feast commences, the actions will be done," Tambryn recites again, like she's reading from a book, words emotionless. "But it's changed once more. The Earth... it's different," she lowers her darkened eyes to me. "I'm sorry, Maxim, but it's time."

I open my mouth, ready to speak, but her fingers lift me up before slamming me back down swiftly, the world instantly turning black...

The pain is immense. I can feel it, throbbing and drumming, like hammers against a fragile wall that's ready to crumble. I peel my eyes open and the world slowly comes together, blurred and torn at the edges, but definitely an improvement. I wince, the green light attacking my eyes. I groan and try to move my wrist, but it's trapped. Panic rises in my chest and I begin to struggle, forcing away the dullness in my eyes.

"I am sorry Maxim," Tambryn's voice drifts, but she's not in front of me. It's only then, do I realise, that I'm not fully on the ground. I glance downwards, Tambryn's tall frame stood underneath me. Well, not directly, but it's proving my theory that I'm suspended in the air somehow. Struggling, I turn, seeing my arm outstretched, thick rope knotted around my wrist and the golden skin glittering in the background. "I never wanted to do this, but the plan has changed. Fate... he wants something different. You betrayed me, Maxim, and unintentionally twisted fate's path."

Everything pieces together as the world comes at me. The green, neon light is strong and intense, burning my eyes and making me wish that I was still unconscious. I look downwards, a metal table being my only support. Barely, anyway, with my toes just grazing the harsh material. The feast table!

"I've cleared away the backpacks," she mutters, voice cold. "The table rose and I knew it had to be used."

I start to panic more now, my tight chest and throbbing skull making things seem worse, no doubt. Both my arms are outstretched, wrists tied up and looped over the Cornucopia's mouth. I 'm... I'm being crucified, strung up in the air and waiting my fate, helpless. I try to crane my neck around, only continuing to prove the damned theories - when I look deep into the golden horn - that I'm being suspended in front of the Cornucopia's mouth, on the feast table, in plain sight. If she really... if she really wanted to kill me, then why make a sickening joke of it? I squeal, violently shaking.

"There's no point in moving," Tambryn says. It's then that I notice her kaiser blade, propped up at one end of the table. Tambryn's eyes keep diverting over me, as if she's feeling guilty and looking at me will only confirm the truth she'd rather not hear. Tears prick at my eyes, whimper locked under my tongue. "The end is near," but, then there's a strange sound, like metal grinding. Tambryn has the luxury of clamping her hands over her ears, but the sound almost destroys my eardrums. "What was that?" she asks.

Warm tears slide down my cheek. "I-I-I..." then, it clicks. "T-The... the metal bars." I choke out.

Her eyes widen for a second before the unmistakable sound of snarls and growls echo down the tunnels. Everything falls silent, all except the monstrous sounds. Tambryn looks around at the twelve tunnels - one with a piece of string fading into the black abyss - with frightened eyes.

"Maxim!" she screams, and they come charging out in feral clusters.

Sickness and acid builds in my chest as the first of many - scaly, with bloody eyes - leaps at Tambryn. She can't react, and as she spins around for her sword, bared teeth sink into her thigh. She screams and I scream with her, colour draining from her face as she looks at me with horror.

More begin to come, packing around her. She fights and struggles, prying teeth from vulnerable skin, but it's too late. Another reaches for her ankle. Another to her hip. One jumps up, catching her wrist. I don't want to look but can't tear my eyes away as they force her to the ground, blood running on the dry concrete. The snarls and her screams mix into the air, creatures fighting and attacking each other, just to get a sickening bite into her flesh.

Soon enough, a cannon sounds, and the Mutts cease. Then, I realise that I'm the only beating heart nearby. The bitter tears continue to spill and leak, and once again, I wish I never forced myself to cry.

A creature moves forward, hind legs helping it climb up onto the table. With its snout, it sniffs my booted foot. The green, dry scales reflect off the light, looking brighter. It looks like a lizard but in the size of a large rodent. My whole body violently shakes and I weakly kick out, trying to knock it away. My breaths come out short and fast, tongue large and lips dry, damp cheeks and wet eyes.

The mouth opens. I close my eyes and allow myself to scream.

* * *

**Darek Jacquard, District Eight Male.**

* * *

The cannon literally makes me jump. The knives fall from my hands, scattering on the floor. Then, I realise, that the tunnels have gone silent. Jayden looks me, his eyes normal.

"What's up?" he asks. "To be honest, I would've thought you'd get used to the cannons by now."

Most people would. I guess I have as well, but there's something... unsettling about the silence and the sudden, new cannon. Has the feast commenced? I don't know, me and Jayden have been working about to keep rid of all the weapons. We'll have to get back soon; my fingers absently claw for the rope wrapped around my waist, but, fear sets in. It's not there...

"Jayden..." I turn around, seeing the rope fall limp on the waters surface. "Jayden, the rope has been cut," I mumble. Jayden bends over, picking it up. His face falls. "Oh... crap."

Jayden hastily dumps the weapons onto the ground, knives and coils of metal haphazardly splashing about. The panic is clear, but who died? Someone has fallen, and whilst it should be important to know, it's the last thing on my mind. Jayden starts to run and I chase, each carrying our respective weapons, though Jayden has agreed for something more deadlier than a slingshot.

We turn the corner of the supposed rope... but it's changed. I follow the rope alongside the surface, trailing up the tunnel until it seems to have disappear into the cement wall.

"The tunnels must've moved. Shit!" Jayden complains, kicking the wall.

"We'll have to make our own way back then," I suggest, not even wanting to bring up the fact that, with a death, the feast has probably already begun. Whatever me and Jayden had, it's lost. Then again, what could it have been? We had food, water, weapons and each other. "Come on Jay, this way," I say, beginning to walk the opposite direction. I can only hope the hidden trick is that by going the opposite way, you're actually going the way you want. Knowing my luck it isn't true, but I need to believe that it would be. Jayden is soon by my side. "Cheer up," I nudge his elbow, mirroring actions from back at the beginning. "We'll make it back. Not like we needed anything that important anyway."

"I suppose not." Jayden shrugs, but the action has obviously pissed him off.

The anthem suddenly floods the tunnel and the lights turn on. I gulp thickly. I don't want to know, not really. These tributes... they're as innocent as me and Jayden. It's not right for them to be here, to be alive, but it's not fair for me to wish them dead either. We should all just be home.

The girl from District Nine flashes across, her piercing, blue eyes turning into ghosts as it disappears. I let out a deep sigh. Each of the poor districts is still represented, clearly. I can only hope that the others aren't as dangerous as I briefly remember. I don't remember too much - the District Ten boy was the obvious threat from an outer district - whilst the District Nine boy was the youngest tribute this year.

Two strong, huge personalities, compared to me and Jayden, who, in my mind, are more average and unforgettable. Jayden tells me that average doesn't make it this far, but I always reply that it could be luck. Pure, simple, golden luck that's kept us together, spared and alive.

We turn a corner and something isn't right. There's something in the air that makes me freeze instantly. Jayden stops, frowning. "What?" he asks, voice pitched in worry.

I look in closer and my heart clenches. "Look," I mutter, glancing at the curved wall, highlighted by white light. Faintly, just barely, you can see the repeated gap of where metal bars used to be. "Whatever they were, they've been released." I barely manage to say before Jayden lets out a loud, shaky breath.

"We better make it to that feast now," he commands. "In that backpack could've been something to kill... them with."

We begin to move faster, forgetting our once tactic to avoid separate steps. Panic turns into tension and I feel sick and dizzy, my grip on the cudgel both deadly and painful. I can actually feel my knuckles burning. Then, the next corner provides the answer, with green light pouring at the end. It's ironic; people say they see the light at the end of the tunnel when death is abundant, yet here, it's green, and green represents the bloodbath area where everyone - Helene - all died, murdered by children in similar positions.

As they push out into the opening, the smell of coppery blood hits my nose and I gag. Jayden, on the other hand, shrieks.

The monsters turn around, dozens of crimson eyes glaring accusingly, hungry... murderous. The lump in my throat almost suffocates me. I raise the cudgel with a shaky hand, the tip of Jayden's sword rattling with fear.

The first creature charges, a few others waiting patiently to probably determine the danger we present. White teeth suddenly come clear but Jayden reacts first, plunging the sword downwards, catching the rodent-lizard in mid-air and forcing him onto the cracked cement flooring.

I vaguely see the rope from the corners of the Cornucopia, laying limp, and a bloody chunk of meat - District Nine, I think, disgusted and repulsed by the horrid sight - spewed on the floor, the odd pair of teeth gnawing carelessly.

Then, I hear the small, weak cry, coming from a pack of monsters that seem to have smothered something else. Another lump.

"Jayden..." I whisper, the eyes carefully watching us. Jayden removes the sword with a sickening squelch, red blood turning black under the smothering neon light. "Jayden!" I shout. All the animals cease their chewing, snapping scaly heads at us. "Over there," I point with the cudgel at a heap of uniform and bloodied skin. "It's the little boy."

Any other tribute would run or leave him to die. Some might even put him out of his apparent misery. But us... me and Jayden... we've always tried to act selfless in a selfish place. I run forward without a second thought or discussion, and I know Jayden follows.

I raise my cudgel bravely, swinging at the first rodent-lizard that leaps for me. I bat it away like it was nothing, focused on getting to the young boy. But, the animals know, and they begin to swarm in pairs and trios. Something clamps around my ankle and I scream, swinging wildly at my feet until they're swatted away. I keep moving, though, swiping at the beasts even though they don't give in. I swing the cudgel down hard on top of the first Mutt, grabbing the thing behind the back of the neck and hauling him away. Another ones bites my ankle, but I need to keep moving... we can't leave him...

His face is bloodied and ripped, eyes closed but no cannon ringing out. "Jayden!" I scream again over the hisses and snarls, but they all stop. The pain in my ankle ceases a little, the sound of tiny footsteps pattering away. Tears prick at my eyes and I turn around, Jayden's pale face nearby. "J-Jayden..."

He moves quickly. I spin around, pulling off limp creatures and tossing them aside. His face... he's beaten bad. I press my fingers to his neck, a weak pulse throbbing in answer.

Blood cakes his body from head to toe, the sweater and pants ripped to shreds. I can only presume that the Mutts ate his district partner, then him. I look at Jayden, his mouth agape. He doesn't say anything; there's no point. I move and sit on the floor, bringing the boy's damp head into my lap. My hands are violently shaking, trembling, but I try and soothe the boy as much as possible.

His cannon is the only answer I receive.

* * *

**Finch Caraway, District Ten Male.**

* * *

This is it. This is the one thing that I've been waiting for, wishing for, ever since I killed Nerys. It hasn't been long - I can still feel her breath ghosting over my skin, making me shiver - but I'm glad it's near. I need to go home, no matter which tributes I face. Each are on their own, from poorer districts, each a male and each wanting to survive. I don't stand out, not really, but I don't want to fall. I don't want to die.

I bring my hands out in front of me, flexing my fingers. It feels surreal that these hands had crushed Nerys' head. That... that these hands will be forever stained, if not physically then mentally. I'll never be able to look at them the same way again. When I imagined taking out Larsen and Calvin... I imagined it differently. I imagined getting the sweet revenge I deserved for the constant torment and alienation, but I never, I never actually thought how it would affect me mentally.

I'm sad that I killed Nerys, but it would happen. No Victor walks away with clean hands and I need to view myself as that, just to keep going.

I turn the corner. How do I reach the bloodbath area? I scan the walls, the lights, the watery floor... but nothing springs to mind. I gulp thickly. I'm truly lost.

The anthem makes me feel better, in a sickening way. I look up at the ceiling as the anthem turns into the little boy from District Nine, bright eyes looking accusingly. He fades and the darkness returns. So, it's me, and the boys from District Eight and District Twelve.

They're decent. They won't be easy to kill, I think sourly. I'm already plotting their deaths, like I'm some monster. I didn't plan killing Nerys in advance, it just... it happened, because the situation was in dire need of being sorted out. She wouldn't have stopped. She would've probably killed me instead.

Will they try and kill me? Will they plot, plan and execute it?

"Just need to think positive," I mumble, running my hands through each other. "I need to think more positive."

But, I don't want to think of their deaths. I don't want to imagine them as killers or victims. I want to return home, but how much of my sanity must I break? I bet Larsen and Calvin are loving this, those bastards. They must enjoy me being played like a fiddle, falling apart at the seams and needing to fix myself. I pause, swinging the backpack over my shoulder. I still has Nerys' taser, my own knuckle-dusters, some food, an empty water canister and some rope. Really, I need the weapons.

I move faster and faster through the tunnels, until the scattering of something else makes me throw myself against the curved wall, back pressed hard. I finger the taser, prepared.

The water splashes and moves as the creatures pass. Their green scales and beady red eyes stand out, round and chunky. The size of rodents with the skin of a lizard. They're creepy... I guess I missed them. Luck could very well be on my side. I move from the shadows and slide the taser into my boot. My mouth twists in disgust as I pull the water canister out as well, dipping over and collecting some water. The District One girl's death flashes across my mind... this could be a quick and simple death. I cap the bottle, putting it in my backpack.

I keep moving, my mind running. I'm not ready for this, but I don't have any choice.

Two more boys have to die in a few seconds. The finale is here, and the Capitol will want a good show, otherwise they'll choose the Victor... and it just might not be me. Being with Nerys so long might've put me on the blacklist, for all I know.

The green hue coats the entrance. I take a few deep breaths, fingers twitching with nerves. I feel sick. I feel confused. I feel... determined, despite not being ready.

Grabbing the water canister from my backpack, zipping it up quietly, I step through the light.

I see the two boys instantly. One - the boy from District Eight, with his shaggy hair - is sat on the floor, cradling something. The other boy - District Twelve - is stood awkwardly on the side, rocking back and forth on his heels. Neither see me, and again, I berate myself for instantly seeing the advantage. I could imagine Larsen and Calvin, if it made it any easier, but killing them wouldn't make my mind ease. Killing is killing and it will always, always take a toll on me.

I carefully slip the backpack from my shoulder, leaning it against the wall. With my taser, water canister and knuckle-dusters, I sneak around the edge, keeping my eyes on them. My aim is getting to the Cornucopia - it's tail, to be precise - and wait. Eventually, I can strike, tossing the water over them and flicking the taser on. I continue to creep, my ears perking at the sound of someone crying.

"Th-hose monsters..." one of them says. "I-I-I can't... can't believe they allowed those, those things, to eat him alive," the voice breaks for a moment, and instantly, my stomach does a somersault of guilt. "He was only twelve or maybe thirteen. He was... he was the youngest here and suffered the worst death..."

"You don't know that, Darek," the other responds. Darek? I think that's the District Eight boy. "He might've already been near as dead before... before they arrived?" he sounds hopeful, more than anything. I gently use the tail to my advantage, hauling me behind the golden curl. "His district partner could've beat him... so they set the Mutts on her, and he was just... collateral damage."

"It's disgusting," Darek soon responds, voice low and angry. "They're all disgusting."

I can't help but agree. They truly are disgusting, finding this pleasing. But, it's a way of life that was lived before we were all born... we can't change tradition, no matter how disgusting it becomes. All politicians are corrupt, my father always said over the morning newspaper with weary eyes.

"There's nothing we can do..." the other ones responds quietly.

Darek sighs heavily, the sound booming around the hollow dome. "I know," he mumbles. There's some shuffling, so I peek around the side. He's standing up, laying the bloodied heap of District Nine to the floor. "Do you think they'll claim them before, District Ten, arrives?"

"Who knows..."

There's silence now. My mind twists and taunts me, telling me that now is the chance to finish them. It'd be easy - lacklustre, but easy - and right now, after seeing the mess and deaths and after everything I've been through, I no longer care about ensuring the Capitol's happiness. A win is a win, after all. I move my hand downwards, slipping the taser free. I step around, taking a heavy breath.

I won't be sneaky or use tactics. I won't surprise kill them either. I'll face them, true and real, rather than hide behind their backs much like Calvin did to me for many months. I'd be a hypocrite otherwise.

"Boys?"

They snap around as fast as possible, weapons raised up defensively. "You," Darek mumbles. "So it begins."

"Yeah," I swallow thickly. "I guess we don't have any other choice."

* * *

******Little Talks by Of Monsters & Men.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Tambryn Delevingne, District Nine.**

******Maxim Bauer, District Nine.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Megan, I love, love, loved Tambryn. I enjoyed writing her character from normality to slight craziness. Truly creative and unforgettable.**

**Starship, as well, Maxim was cute beyond belief. I'll miss the innocence he brought to this story.**

* * *

**I would love for you to answer a specific question I have for each chapter!**

_**So who do you predict will be the Victor and who you want?**_

_**Favourite deceased character? :)**_

**And, of course, a general review on my writing? It's invaluable!**

* * *

**Two more chapters left of Claustrophobia. This story has been one hell of an emotional rollercoaster. **

**So, I hope this chapter was good enough. It'll be hard for the next one, considering Darek, Jayden and Finch aren't monsters or anything... so it'll literally be a fight for life, no matter the price of sanity. I hope everyone is looking forward to it! Also, please understand that I have already chosen the Victor... I ask that you prepare yourself in case it wasn't the person you wanted, whoever it may have been!**

**Oh, and the Mutts ;) yeah, they've been waiting for this. They're the size of rats, but scaly like alligators, a combination of sewer creatures.**


	19. King And Lionheart

**King And Lionheart.**

_And as the world comes to an end, I'll be here to hold your hand._

* * *

**Finch Caraway, District Ten Male.**

* * *

It doesn't feel right. Of course, it shouldn't feel right in the first place - none of this is right - but me versus two allies is an even difficult challenge. The bitter part of my mind berates me for not attacking without thinking, without feeling, because they'd both be dead and I would be a sure bet. I didn't think they were allies, not really. I thought that maybe... maybe they had come and met and decided to politely wait... no, of course they were allies, but I didn't want to be in the wrong. I want to win with honor or die with honor.

"I'm Finch," I say, though it doesn't matter. I awkwardly move forward whilst their weapons raise. "I guess... I guess this is what they want."

"Of course it is," Darek answers. "They want their finale. We're the obvious choices for it to be fun." he adds bitterly.

"Darek..." his ally mumbles, face pale. "Let's not try and anger the Gods whilst they still have control," Darek relents, his eyes swimming in hurt and disgust. The two District Nine bodies so close are sickening, their blood and mutilated faces highlighted by green light. "I'm Jayden, if you didn't know."

I didn't know. I didn't want to know. I don't... I don't know what I'm doing. I want to fight with dignity, to handle things I couldn't before, but my choices are leaving harder than expected answers. By learning their names, if I win, I'll never forget. By approaching them rather than a sneak attack, I've made it harder. I've made everything harder and for what? Dignity. The last thing I have in a wretched place like this. They've stolen my bite and sarcasm, something that has always been a comfort to me.

I don't have much left for them to steal.

"So, what?" Darek chokes. "We just talk about how lucky we are, and just hope the Gamemakers allow us all to live?"

It's the better wish, but also the false one. "No," I mumble. "We have to fight, before it gets ugly."

On queue, like someone has heard me, a grinding noise fills the air. The twelve tunnels suddenly shut off, metal bars sealing the three of us - and the two dead bodies - under the neon rays. Is that it? I expected more, to be frank, and whilst I should be happy, this can't be it. I've watched enough Hunger Games to know that finales have to be big, loud, destructive, soul-breaking and, most of all, entertaining.

The ground suddenly shakes. Panic seizes my chest and I stagger forward, Darek and Jayden confused and looking around. Then, I see it.

The water from the tunnels begins to pour through the iron grid. Murky, dark, disgusting water ready to flood us. Darek gasps, his eyes bright with fear. "We're going to drown," he whispers to Jayden. "They'll flush us out."

"It's the storm drain," Jayden deduces. "I guess it's redirected here to, you know, encourage us." he adds with a grimace.

"I'm sorry, you two. I'm sure you were nice people." I say, before running.

My mind swims in disgust and betrayal as I lock the knuckle-duster through my fingers. They prepare themselves, though, and as I near, Darek takes a wild swing with a cudgel. I avoid the attack, ducking down in time to bring a fist into his lower gut. Jayden's hand roughly grabs the back of my neck, but I spin on the now watery floor, sweeping my leg out. His sword clatters to the ground and he scrambles for it. I stand, bringing my foot down on his fingers. He screams, the sound of his snapping bones rocketing around my skull. I doubt they're broke, but definitely injured.

Darek lunges forward, smacking the cudgel into my side. I stumble backwards, Jayden meekly grabbing the sword with his other hand. Darek steps forward to hit again - protecting Jayden, I believe, due to their nature and friendship. I can see the light in their eyes that I never saw from Nerys - so I have to duck again. I move to punch, but he's quick to dodge, bringing the cudgel down on my back. The pain spreads out across my body and I fall down, blood filling my mouth.

Darek screams. The cudgel connects with my skull now, white stars exploding in my vision. I see Jayden running forward, face contorted in pain. "Darek!" he shouts, but Darek swings again.

I hear a thrust and suddenly, Darek isn't towering over me with frightful, desperate eyes. I turn over, the pain washing over my stomach and boiling the acid. I make out through blurry eyes that Jayden is talking to Darek, but their discussion is tense. Do they realise that one will have to die, if not both?

They must do. Darek shoves Jayden back, but the sight is depressing. Two friends, forced to turn on each other. I rise onto a knee, bringing out the bottled water. I twist the cap and throw hard, a dead target on Jayden's back. He grunts, Darek looks, but it's too late. I click the taser, but nothing happens...

I flash back to killing Nerys, the horrid memories constantly repeating over and over again. Of course, it broke. I managed to smash it. I forgot that part...

I stagger to my feet, noticing the silver flashing in the corner. A blade of some sort? But the Cornucopia looked empty... they click on as well. Our eyes level out, engaged, but I quickly make the first move and stagger for it.

"Jayden, the kaiser blade!" Darek shouts.

Their booming footsteps chase me. I wrap my fingers around the handle, just as the frightening sword slashes into the table. I spin, heart leaping to my throat, as Jayden looks at me with confused eyes. We're no fighters or monsters...

"I don't want to do this," I steadily say, my tongue feeling furry. "I never wanted to kill anyone."

"I doubt anyone did," Jayden counters in a timid voice. "We're sorry too, in case it wasn't obvious."

"Every man for themselves." I recite, something Calvin said, after I was forced out of the closet. He did it spitefully whilst we were in a gang and not many people knew. He did it on purpose, to torment me, showing me an ugly side to the one person I thought was beautiful through and through. It shook my confidence. And, now, I'm reminded that people can love each other, just by looking into Jayden or Darek's eyes.

"A fair fight," Jayden declares, stepping back. Darek is in the background, wading through the ankle-deep, murky water. "Just you and me."

* * *

**Darek Jacquard, District Eight Male.**

* * *

"What?" I almost scream, hearing Jayden's words. Jayden turns around, flashing that comforting smile that made me agree to be his ally. "Jayden, no, I-I... I can fight for myself."

"I don't want you to," I hear him reply. Whilst I can't see it, I can hear the smile in his voice. "I want to save you, like you saved me," I scoff. I hardly saved him. If anything, it was the other way around. "No, don't scoff. Just... let me... please."

Finch smiles meekly and I stand back, bringing the cudgel close to my chest. They separate slowly, their weapons raised like some sort of duel. Now, more than ever, I feel like a damsel in distress. Yet, I just want to smile, because Jayden is willing to do this for me. It's something that no-one has ever done, and it feels my chest with an awkward warmth that shouldn't be around in a place like the Hunger Games.

"Are you sure?" Finch asks. I see Jayden nod, before his sword levels with Finch's newly kaiser blade. "Okay then, well, good luck."

Their blades clash and I cringe, scenes of the bloodbath taking over my mind briefly, smothering my skull.

Part of me wants to interfere. I mean, in the Hunger Games, there are no rules to follow. People can cheat and backstab and... murder. Yet, I'm glued to the ground, watching them fight carelessly as the water rises ever so slowly. It's only trickling in, so I doubt it's meant to be a full-on rush. I should attack. Jayden can push him back towards me, and I could attack. It'd be easy. Despicable and inhumane, but... again, the Hunger Games.

Jayden gains an upper hand, forcing Finch's blade downwards. Finch kicks out, Jayden defends, and another shout dies on my tongue. I can feel my chest tightening in fear. Not for me, but for Jayden. Finch is taller, broader, older and stronger. By statistics, Finch should have won almost weeks ago.

Finch pushes the blade hard. I stumble forward, water splashing, as Jayden's sword is ripped from his hand.

I can't handle it. I scream, as loud as possible.

It confuses Finch enough for Jayden to tackle him. I instantly feel dirty as they fall on the floor, kaiser blade skidding along the slight surface. I run forward, watching Finch deliver an uppercut to Jayden's chin.

"Enough!" I demand, but Finch shoves Jayden off. It's too late to change anything... someone has to die.

I pull forth my cudgel and swing without thinking. They wanted honor to fight, but you don't get the choice. The weapon cracks on Finch's head again, blood dribbling as he slams down hard. Jayden runs for the lost sword whilst I watch. I study Finch's face, not even realising that I'm trembling with disgust. I tremble so much, my eyes close for a brief second.

And Finch takes advantage.

He grabs my ankle. My eyes snap open, just to see him yank back hard. As my foot flies forward, I fall backwards. My head bounces off of the cement floor with ease, a sickening crack making my stomach churn and eyes violently blur. I hear Finch get up. I will myself to move, to think properly, to just... look. I turn over as Jayden comes flying forward, face red with exhaustion. He swings and the blade slices down Finch's shoulder, pulling a scream from his throat.

He doesn't fall, though, like a human boulder, unable to move. Hurt turns into adrenaline and Finch punches back, his brass knuckle-dusters clipping Jayden across the nose, blood splattering out.

"Ah!" I shout, using my strength to push me upwards. Finch turns around, just in time to see my fist. My knuckles graze across his chin, but the blow only causes him to stagger. In the background, I can see Jayden, kneeling on the floor as blood pours from his nose. "You... d-don't t-touch him." I weakly command.

Finch looks battered. "I don't want this, you know," he spits. "I want to go home as much as you do."

I breathe heavily, lungs on fire. I can see water build up in Finch's eyes. "I know," I choke. "I know."

We all want to survive. Even if we kill Finch, me and Jayden... I stop my thoughts there. Me and him - us - we haven't thought this through properly.

Finch steps slowly and I flinch, clenching my fists. I hold them, eyes wary on Finch's form. He could attack or run at any second. He wants to be valiant, but desperation can make someone lose their morals easily. I should know, because I'm willing to kill, no matter how much my body and mind argues.

Finch moves. I attack.

He's trying to dart towards the kaiser blade, but I catch his foot with my own, tripping him. He lands on his stomach with a grunt, turning over as I hastily kneel down. Finch swings a punch which connects with my shoulder, sending a wave of numbing pain across my body. With Jayden disabled, I need to move. I jab my fist into his nose, some sort of sickening irony hidden in there somewhere, but it misses and lands against his cheek. Finch thrusts me off of him, pushing me to the side. I scrabble at the ground as he attempts to roll away. I pathetically grab his sweater, trying to force him to roll back. His leg shoots out backwards, booted foot colliding with my knee. I scream in agony again, but I can't... I can't let him go...

Finch kicks again, this time ending in my stomach. Acid flies into my throat and I gag, eyes watery.

It gives him enough time to scramble forward for the weapon. I glance behind, Jayden still on the verge of passing out, bent over and dry-heaving. I instantly feel lost, a tremble of hope dying.

"As I said, I-I don't want to do this," Finch's trembling voice reaches mine.

I can practically feel his guilt in every word, but it doesn't make me feel better. I turn around, making him look me in the eyes. My murderer needs to forever remember my eyes. He raises the kaiser blade - light glinting on the dark silver - and plunges it forward.

I hear rushed foosteps, and suddenly, Jayden is in my view, lunging forward. A scream breaks out on my lips as the squeal proves the worst; the blade entering Jayden's stomach.

Jayden stands there, legs shaking, but doesn't full. I'm shocked, glued to my spot, despite wanting to cry or run or scream or fight. Mixed emotions sweep my body as I hear a blade leaving flesh, before the sound is repeated... my eyes widen as Finch sinks to his knees - briefly disappearing behind Jayden's legs - before he falls out, blade scattering on the floor. His eyes connect with mine and I watch, tears leaking, heart thumping, as every fibre of life drains from his blue eyes, a single tear drifting from the glossy orb.

A cannon sounds, and Jayden collapses, followed by the drop of his own sword.

Time seems to speed up and I can finally move, tugging and pulling at Jayden's body, rolling his over. The large gash is the only thing I can see, and fresh tears spring at my eyes. I'm shaking. Jayden is shaking. Like with the little boy, I pull Jayden closer, constantly wiping my eyes with my free hand.

"J-Jay..."

I inspect the wound and my heart swells. It's not so bad, having shot into his lower stomach. It missed all the vital stuff, right?

But as hope blossoms in my chest, it hits me again. He's still alive, and so am I.

Someone still has to die.

* * *

**Head Gamemaker Felidae Glass.**

* * *

I fall into my seat, staring at the screen. The Gamemakers around me have fallen silent, their intent ears and curious eyes watching the two boys on screen, one holding the other.

I've never seen such... compassion, shared between two allies. You can see friendship, naive love sometimes, but never this. Jayden Perona willingly took an attack for his ally. He's not out for the count, but that doesn't mean that the injuries aren't clear. I briefly look at his monitor, his heartbeat clearly weaker than the vigor and fear that courses through Darek Jacquard's. Even their family interviews brought about tears in my eyes. Darek's friend were memorable, Jayden's family full of hope.

Even Finch Caraway's was heartfelt, his two proclaimed best friends, Larsen Mills and Calvin Trescott, chiming about how wonderful their friend was and how he had been through so much, with people bullying him. You get to learn their lives and you grow attached.

But that's what she wants, after all.

"Injury update?" Sterling Serpentine asks.

"The injury isn't fatal, but enough to bleed out," a younger Gamemaker bellows. "He won't be dead for another ten or twenty minutes, sir."

"Pathetic," Sterling hisses. He turns around to me, and despite being his superior, Sterling glares. "Aren't you going to do something about this?"

"And do what, exactly?" I counter. "The Capitol doesn't like it when we interfere with the finale. Esmeralda's orders were to allow fate to play out, in honor of her favourite tribute, Tambryn Delevingne."

Because, despite having favourites and wanting certain Victors to win, Esmeralda Snow doesn't play dirty with the finale. The raw emotions, intense fighting and lives lost are what drives the Capitol into hysterics, buying out merchandise, souvenirs and booking their future tour with the arena's confines. Just earlier, I saw a young girl wearing a dreamcatcher around her neck. This is what she wants; people being entertained.

"You're pretty useless," he has the balls to add. Liole, next to him, tenses. "This is lacklustre, just sitting here and watching one die. Twenty minutes of sop and weakness makes me physically sick," he looks at me. "Physically sick, Felidae. Married life has made you weak."

I ignore Sterling, just like I've always done. He has done nothing but complain throughout the entire Games. When Nerys West electrocuted Dione Martell far too soon, he wanted to have her executed by the Mutts. His hand lunged for the button to remove the metal bars and I literally had to shove him away, just so he didn't ruin anything. Then, when Laise Revilyn's picture came up with a little notice saying that her mentor had purchased arsenic, he wanted the object removed, just because he deemed it unfair. Really, he didn't want Magnus Croft to die, his favourite and choice for Victor.

Sterling has done nothing but be a hazard. He doesn't understand that entertainment is great, but Esmeralda wants the Capitol to fall in love with these tributes and make them memorable. A fight scene of even a tender moment like this, it's all more important than executing someone and bloody deaths. Murder is pointless unless emotions are involved.

"Felidae," he chimes. "You need to sort this out. I can hear our ratings dropping."

"They've already done enough," I remind him. "Let them have a breather. If it's twenty minutes, then Darek will have to kill him. The Capitol will enjoy that more." I think, slightly sad. I liked them both.

"They blocked up our storm drain," he groans. "They've messed your precious arena up."

I glance at the screen on the side, the pile of weapons pressed up against the fan and pump. Darek and Jayden moving the weapons proved to do more damage than good. Their plan didn't succeed, and the water now leaking into the arena is all on them. I had no plans on flooding them; that's been far too overdone.

There's a sudden beep. My eyes snap to the heart monitor, Jayden's flashing dangerously low. I can practically hear Sterling's smile. "Now, I think the finale has properly arrived."

"What do you mean?" I turn around and ask, but it's too late. Liole gasps as Sterling lunges forward once more, slamming his fist onto the many tiny buttons that unleash the many different traps and tricks.

Sirens blare out, red light illuminating the Gamemakers below us. "Update!" I command.

"Madame, the um... the traps have been... compromised," he stutters. I glare, anger boiling in my veins. "All of them have been turned on, causing the system to fry. I can't take control!"

His fingers and many more glide over the buttons, desperately trying to fix Sterling's mess. I turn to him, a wicked grin spread out across his lips. "Do you realise what you've done?!" I hiss. "You've ruined everything! You've destroyed all of the tunnels' traps!" I turn back around to the underlings. "Fix it! Now!" then, I turn back to Sterling. "Your career is over. Be lucky you might have your head at the end of it."

* * *

**Jayden Perona, District Twelve Male.**

* * *

Darek's soft fingers run through my hair, but it feels... distant. It feels like it isn't happening, but it is. Like the pressure is almost next to nothing, so you can only notice it if you really focus on it. But focusing hurts too much. Everything hurts too much.

"Shh," Darek's weak voice whispers, broken and torn. I can't bear to know I've upset him. "E-Everything will... will be o-okay, J-Jay."

But it won't, he knows that. He's in denial. It was always going to end like this, with one of us dying. I just knew it. Another wave of pain rocks my chest and I whimper, Darek's body shifting until I fall deeper into his lap. The green light bathes down on me, bright and torturous. Who knew I'd live for this long... I bet everyone had me pegged as dying early. District Twelve never does well, and no doubt, I was going to fall into the stereotype of bloodbath victims.

But I made it. I can feel proud about that; I can feel District Twelve's hope lifting, that maybe, just maybe, another year will bring another Victor.

"Darek..." I whisper, tears leaning on my eyelashes. "...it's going to be okay."

"O-Of course it i-is," he cries. "I j-just know that y-you'll pull through."

Again, he knows I won't. He wants me to live, but it's impossible. I risked everything to kill Finch, just so that Darek has a better chance. I only done it so that we wouldn't have to worry about an outer person - someone who didn't understand us - so we could plan something. I had no idea what, but I didn't think. He was about to kill Darek and I just saw red, despite the green.

There's a horrible noise. Darek's breath hitches. I can feel his chest tightening. The world blurs at the edges as I lean over, feeling the water slowly lap against my exposed skin. The noise happens again and again, as if something was breaking. Something explodes and Darek jumps, his fingers gripping harder in my hair. The air turns sour, I can smell it, and Darek's heart begins to race, thumping against my head and joining the already thumping.

Gently, Darek lays me on the floor. He stands, just coming into view. "I-I'm going to check it out," he whispers. "I-I'll be back." he smiles sadly, before walking ahead.

I keep my eyes locked on him, each breath making my body hurt. I shake slightly, my eyes casting down to the hole in my gut. Finch was quick, just like me. The cool air ghosts over the wound, sending my body into violent shivers. My hand falls down to the wound, fingers probing at the sticky blood smothering my chest. I haven't got long left, I just know it. I can feel my body slowing dying.

"Darek..." I mumble. "I-I-I'm scared..."

Darek comes into view again, his face ghostly white. He looks ill; I hate the fact that I've done this to him. "Jayden?" he whispers again, as if he's worried he might cry any second. His eyes glitter under the light, tears clear. "I-I think something is happening... d-don't be scared, I-I'm here and you'll pull t-through."

Then, it happens, like something combusts. Darek shrieks, stumbling over as the ground vibrates.

Each movement sends more pain and white stars explode in my vision, sending my head reeling. Darek tries to gain his feet, but he falls, knees hitting the watery ground hard.

That's when the iron grid explodes off the hinges. It shoots across the room with a bang, Darek shrieking again as it clatters and dents the Cornucopia. Another pops out, and another, and another. I tilt my head to the side. We're directly opposite one. I snap my head - despite the swimming feeling - and scream. Darek quickly ducks as the metal grid comes charging at him, barely scraping over his body. He howls in pain, a metal rod ripping across his back. As he falls, I can see the fresh blood and nightmarish cut, going down his spine.

I know why they're doing this. Darek won't kill me, and watching me bleed out is obviously boring. My violently shaking hand reaches out, grasping onto Darek's wrist.

Fresh tears slide down his face as he looks up, a bluish hue spreading out over his lips and cheeks. "T-T-The s-sword..." I croak.

His eyes flash alarmingly. "No," he argues. "No, no, no, I can't do t-that, I j-just can't."

I nod weakly. "You have too..."

"No!" he screams, but then, the tunnels begin to rattle. Something is coming, and it'll kill him if he doesn't finish me off. I nod again. "N-N-N-No." he whimpers.

The rat-lizard Mutts storm out of the tunnels, their teeth bared. They charge towards us and Darek's face falls. He knows, he must know. My hand twitches towards the weapon, inches away.

The first Mutt reaches me, razor-sharp teeth clamping on my arm. I don't have the energy to scream, and the pain locks itself in my throat, burning my chest. Darek stands and tries to kick them, but the Mutts swarm like wasps, snapping at his ankles and feet. He staggers backwards, his heel chipping at the sword.

Another one clamps onto me and fresh blood is spilt. "Darek!" I manage to scream.

He turns around. His eyes flash with sorrow, before he leans down and grabs the sword. He has no time, and swiftly, he plunges the blade into the already open wound. Blood floods over my tongue and I choke, feeling it dribble down my lips. He cries and the Mutts cease, releasing their jaws. He holds my eyes, tears cascading down onto my bitter cold face.

"I-It's okay..." I whisper.

Darkness floods my vision, taking the last image of Darek's crestfallen face with me. My breathing slows down and the burning takes over. Eventually, the pain ceases, and I want to smile. Darek did it, against all odds. I couldn't be happier for him.

* * *

**King And Lionheart by Of Monsters And Men.**

* * *

******The blog for this story is _claustrophobia__ hunger games . blogspot_ - all deaths will be notified here!**

******Finch Caraway, District Ten.**

******Jayden Perona, District Twelve.**

**All deaths will be based on realism, story arcs and whether or not the submitter is reading the story. Obviously, reviews let me know this, and if said submitter chooses to not review, I have no idea if they're reading the story, and therefore, am more inclined to keep other tributes over said submitter's tribute. Each decision is painstakingly hard but must be done. Everyone knew the odds when they created a character. I would hope you stick around, but if not, I understand.**

**Anime, Finch was wonderful and complex and enigmatic. I've loved every second of having him.**

**cc4s, Jayden has been one of the best D12 tributes I have ever had, and that's been a lot. He broke the mould and people loved him. It was sad to see him go!**

* * *

**If you could, a review on these questions would make my day:**

_-Who you thought would win Claustrophobia, at any point?_

_-Your favourite character (despite your own, and no matter their final placement)?_

_-Are you happy with who won (going by realism and favouritism)?_

_-The most shocking death of this story, to you?_

_-The most jaw-dropping moment (or, in other words, the scene that captured you the most)?_

_-Your favourite chapter?_

* * *

**This was one of the hardest finales to write. I kept switching between who should win out of the three, because in all honesty, they each had their pros and cons. I weighed out the options and ended up on Darek. I hope people don't mind, I feel like Darek deserves it as much as what Finch or Jayden did.**

**Of course, I ask that you see this from an author's view, a realistic and a non-bias one. Not everyone's favourite can be the Victor, and it's not always the obvious choice. Next chapter is, of course, recaps and epilogue for poor Darek. He will be in the next SYOT, as per tradition! Obituaries are loaded up with the epilogue, as normal.**

**So, yeah. I hope people didn't mind Felidae's rude interruption. I wanted to clear some things up, such as Jayden and Darek unintentionally causing the flood and an even deeper look into the trivial Capitol (I can imagine them with little designer gear, like with celebs!) It ties up many loose ends in EsmeraldaVerse.**

**Lastly, congratulations Chaos In Her Wake, Darek done you proud!**


	20. I Won't Give Up

**I Won't Give Up.**

_I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make._

* * *

**Darek Jacquard, District Eight Male.**  
**One Hundred and Fifteenth Victor.**

* * *

Reality catches up with me fast. I can't stop the tears from spilling, freshly falling onto his face. My hand shakes and I lose grip of the sword momentarily, clasping back at it to keep my sanity rooted. Gently, I pull the sword out, the bloody tendrils clawing up to my hand. I killed him; I killed the best thing to happen to me in a long time.

The Mutts continue to hiss and claw, eager to snap away at me. I watch them with wary eyes, constantly blinking to help my vision. They're just there, watching with those beady eyes, making my stomach churn and somersault. I slowly pull myself to my feet, legs violently shaking, and back away. The sight of him brings about a twisted sort of pain, making my heart clench and palpitate, just like the time he kissed me. I'll never forget what he done, nor what I did to him.

The ladder drops to the side, green lights shutting off. Everything falls dark, a single white light showering the ladder and part of Jayden's bloody, beaten corpse. I can't pull away, his face peaceful and serene, as if he's just sleeping. That's what they say though, right? They say that when people die, it's like they're asleep. Wake up, Jayden... please.

I grip onto the ladder, the electricity freezing me in place. Slowly, I rise, descended from hell upwards. I can still hear their hissing. What about Jayden? My mind turns frantic as I'm suddenly in a room, glass walls and flooring. My eyes widen; you can see every single tunnel from up here, yet from down there, it's concrete and cement. Here, you can see how the maze spreads out and the murky, splashing ground. I can even see the faint drift of water, and when I trace it with my eyes, I see our weapons blocking up some large machine. So they were watching us, on their glass flooring, our cement ceiling.

A smile creeps on my face as I hand touches my shoulder. I flinch, pulling away and meeting the alert eyes of Chiffon. "Darek," she smiles sadly. "I know you're in shock, but please, you need to get cleaned up."

I vaguely remember the bite on my ankle, or the bruises and grime smothering my face. "W-What about Jayden?" I ask instead. I care more about his body than I do my hygiene.

"They'll collect him soon," she replies, voice soft and timid, as if she's worrying about breaking me with words. "They care more about you at this point, as sad as it sounds," when my eyes fall back down on the glass flooring, noticing Jayden's still half-illuminated body, she sighs. "The Mutts won't attack, if that's what you're worried about. He'll be fine."

"He's dead," I choke, my throat tightening. "He won't be fine, b-because he's dead, Chiffon..."

Her hand falls on my shoulder again but I flinch once more. No-one has touched me except Jayden and people out to kill me... I'm not used to it, not yet. In the corner of my eye, Avoxes begin to flood through the pristine white doors, pushing along a tray.

There's a silence, the only noise being the rattling of squeaky wheels. I just can't tear my eyes away, no matter how sick and dirty it makes me feel. "What now?" I finally break the silence again.

"They'll clean you up, take you home, let you have some rest before the recaps... and then, a Victory Tour," Chiffon replies. "Surely you know this?"

But, I don't answer. I have to forcibly pry my eyes away from their position, just to keep moving. Leaving him alone, down there, when he never left me... it isn't right.

I'm starting to learn that a lot of things aren't right anymore.

* * *

After a week of being in the Capitol, recovering from whatever imaginary disorder they've labelled me with, they told me I could go home. I'm happy, excited even, but the knot in my stomach is far too wide to even control. Chiffon's company doesn't make it much easy, what with her pestering.

"For the last time, Chiffon, I am okay," I repeat. We were at this stage before the Hunger Games, where I screamed and shouted about being average. I was so worried and apologised profoundly. Now, I feel stupid about it. Chiffon frowns, eyebrows knitted. "Honestly."

"Are you sure?" she continues to pester, leaning closer. She's a lot smaller and wiry, but she can be intimidating. "Velvet and me thought it might be a nice idea for us to sit and watch something, you know, to help make the journey quicker. It's been me and Velvet for far too long."

"I'm... I'm really tired," I make the excuse. "I'll come out later." I smile, gently closing the door before she can argue back.

I mope over to my bed, sitting to look out the window. The scenario blurs past, the trees and fields of District Ten just zooming by. My mind drifts back to Finch and his chivalry, on how he was willing to give it a fair fight until I jumped in. The lump forms in my throat; his family are out there now, grieving for a child that was murdered. They'll forever remember me as the guy who won, whilst theirs died. I didn't kill - I only killed my ally, of course, I think bitterly - and I don't know what to think about it. I could mourn for him...

The idea hits me. A hobby, Chiffon said I had to take. I move across the large room towards the table, opening up the draws until the stack of papers and pen come into light.

I'll write him a letter. I'm tell him how sorry I am, before leaving it in District Ten when I tour there. I smile for the first time in ages - not forced, at least - as I sit on the floor, spreading the paper out in front of me and testing the pen.

I'll start to write. I'll write about them, the deceased, and what little memories I have of them. I'll honor their deaths without ever knowing them.

* * *

District Eight doesn't feel the same. After the bombarding of cameras and the lack of visitors - which is easily expected - the sight is... different. Have I changed, or has District Eight always been this... tense?

A few children run pass me, their eyes full of light. One stops, his eyes bright and glassy. He looks full of innocence, a dirty ball tucked under his arm.

"Aren't you the Victor?" he asks, his friends soon gathering around him. Their eyes look up at me with awe and amazement, as if I'm something special. I nod, trying to smile. "My family won't go hungry this year," he smiles. His friends seem bored and quickly leave him. "Thank you, sir."

"I'm Darek. You don't... you don't have to call me sir." I laugh awkwardly.

"Come on Pippin, let's go!" one of them shouts in the distance, his matted blonde hair standing out.

The glassy-eyed boy looks at me, beaming. "I'll see you around, Mr Darek!"

I stand there, outside of the Victor's Village, completely stunned. It takes a few moments before I can move myself, returning back to the house that Chiffon and Velvet have taken up slight residency in. Well, Chiffon has, and pulls Velvet along whether she likes it or not. I push open the door, not surprised by the sweet smell of leak and celery. Chiffon's head pops around the door frame, eyes alight. "Your parents stopped by to visit, and your brothers picked their rooms," she smiles. Rules say that no family can move in until my Victory Tour, and in turn the recaps, are over. "I thought I'd make some breakfast for when everyone gets back."

"Don't you have your own family to look after?" I say, hanging my coat up. As far as I knew, Chiffon had family... at least, I think she did?

She frowns. "I couldn't handle a family when I returned. And my parents have since long died."

She returns to her cooking. I move forward, guilt building in my stomach. I see Velvet on the chair, fingers fiddling in her dress. "Hey Darek." she mumbles, still washing her hands.

"It's ready now, if you want some," Chiffon says, but my eyes are locked on Velvet, repeating those motions with frightful eyes. "Darek?"

"Velvet, are you okay?" I ask. Her eyes widen and her hands fall apart. She looks trapped, like she's caught in headlights and has no way out. I study her for a few moments before the pieces come together. "Velvet, do you suffer from OCD?"

"That's absurd," Chiffon interjects, suddenly by my side. "I practically spend all day with her. I would know. You're being ridiculous. Right, Velvet?" yet, Velvet stays quiet, eyes downcast. When she's rewarded with silence, Chiffon's mouth falls open. "No," she mumbles, stricken. "No, Velvet, you should have... you should have told me..."

"When?" I ask. It's probably not my place - their friendship is stronger, after all... probably like mine and Jayden's - but I feel like it needs to be said.

"A few months ago," she replies meekly. "It's no big deal."

When Chiffon sits down next to her on the wicker furniture, wrapping her arms around her hesitant friends, I feel out of place. I'll never have that again. I can't act the same with my friends. Jacob, Katie, Spencer, Alex... they might only ever see a boy pushed to the limits. How can I be the same person, when that person has changed? They might not see me the same; I might not see them the same either. I move out of the kitchen quietly, and when I'm out of sight, I run for the door and out.

I sprint through the small, near-abandoned village and onto the muddy streets, my heart hammering. Tears begin to lean on my eyelashes, legs burning and crying in pain. I stumble a few times - almost tripping on the loose pebbles - the whole image of the arena crossing my mind. Each turn reminds me of the tunnels. Each time my foot falls in a puddle, the flashback of the splashing water that lined the floor dominates my mind.

The park comes into view and I run faster, feeling compelled to go there. But, I freeze, noticing them in the distance, in our little area under the willow. I guess my mind was leading me there, where I would go when things were horrid at home; mainly when Nick had multitude of females around, and me and Grayson were forced away. I feel odd, awkward, staring at my friends laughing and talking, Alex's head laid gently in Spencer's lap. I liked her - she was my crush and I was smitten - and now, in my absence, Spencer has taken my place.

I'm no longer needed. They haven't even came to see me. Or, maybe they have, but I wasn't in. Maybe they're waiting, knowing that I might need space...

Each excuse feels wrong in my head and I turn, bumping into that same little kid. "Mr Darek!" he beams.

"...Pippin, right?" I choke.

"Pippin Halland," he grins. "I was just playing with my friends, but they've gone home now."

"How old are you and your friends?" I ask, mindless natter to help clear my clouded mind.

"I'm ten," he shows me the ball again. "Do you know how to play?" when I nod, his grin turns wider. "Can you play with me? As I said, my friends have gone home now..."

His eyes reminds me of Jayden's, glassy and full. I can't help but smile again. There's something about this kid, something that stirs me... "Sure," I smile. "But let's play somewhere different. I have a backyard, if you want to go there?"

"A Victor's house?" he gasps. "Hell yeah!"

* * *

By the time I'm back in the Capitol, I feel wrong. Despite the change, I've enjoyed the last few days. I spent more time playing with Pippin, using his innocence as an anchor to sanity whilst I showed him the wonders that I now had, something he didn't. He loved it, with wide eyes, and I constantly allowed him food, money and toys, whatever he asked for. He would only speak and I would see Jayden in him. I had to, as if, in some twisted way, I can honor Jayden's death by doing something good.

Once again, I'm on my own, Chiffon putting all of her time and effort into helping Velvet.

I liked the company that Pippin brought, now that I couldn't look my friends in the eyes. I liked being admired. Someday, it'd be nice to possibly have a child much like Pippin.

Grayson and Nick were just as good. They argued over their rooms, us triplets being inseparable but kind to one another. Triplet telepathy, my mother would say, seeing as how I knew them inside and out, even without having to know. I knew Grayson hated onions, even before he declared it to the family. Nick just nodded in agreement.

"How do you know then?" Father laughed over the table.

"I just... I knew." I shrugged with a smile.

"Triplet telepathy." Mother added, and the name stuck since.

The crowd soon erupts into cheers, bringing me out of my tranquility. The spotlight follows Hermes as he walks onto the stage, adorned in bright green. I can only assume it's a twisted joke, representing the colour of our bloodbath. I'm jittery, hands clasped in front of me. Chiffon is too busy with Velvet to even hand me a few tips.

"Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, please welcome the Victor of the One Hundred and Fifteenth Hunger Games, all the way from District Eight - Darek Jacquard!"

The crowd bursts into applause. At first, it shocks me; was I that much liked? But of course, the answer really is that they can't wait to relive the bloodshed.

I walk out onto the stage, shuffling in my lilac suit. I feel awkward, watched under the intense light. Before, it never bothered me. Now, I just want to go home... I hate the idea of being ogled. Hermes grins, teeth bared much like the Mutts. I take the seat, blinking at the intense light... just like the intense neon. No matter what, I'll never forget. No-one can erase those thoughts from my mind.

"Darek," he begins when the crowd has grown quiet. "Darek, Darek, Darek. Quite the little... story, you've weaved," he leans forward. "How are you feeling since you murdered your... best friend slash lover?"

My throat tightens but I ease it away. "He wasn't my lover," I say, despite my heart thinking otherwise. "We were friends, best friends... allies."

"Lovers," he corrects. "We all saw that kiss," he moves his hand behind the seat, pulling forth a white shirt, mine and Jayden's face stained on the front in a cartoon heart. "The Capitol went berserk. I hope you know how much everyone shipped you."

I nod. "I guess... I guess people enjoy budding friendships ruined."

Hermes' eyes widen. "Ah yes, a tale as old as time itself. Nothing better than watching something beautiful be crushed."

We talk for a little while, Hermes' questions increasing in bitterness and spite. At one point, he calls out my quick betrayal of Helene, how I moved on quicker than I should of, which left a sour taste in my mouth for the few questions after. I never betrayed her. I never... I fought for her as much as I could of. I needed to move on, otherwise I would've died next. I don't say that, though, and just continue to allow Hermes to batter me with insulting, prying questions.

Eventually, it's time. Hermes claps loud, giddy with excitement. "Let the recaps begin!" he cheers, the audience fading into the oncoming blackness.

I breathe hard, suddenly claustrophobic. I've never felt this scared before. The darkness looms over, smothering with black tendrils, before white static behind me casts some light. I lean around in my chair, needing to see it all. I relived as much of it as possible; Grayson said the best way to overcome something, was to face it head-on. I need to get over it, I suppose.

"Twenty-four tributes went in, whilst only one came out." a loud voice booms.

The white turns into a cluster of colours. Slowly, they fill out, casting out the lucid scene of grain and yellow grass. This must be District Nine, I presume. The escort bumbles on stage and picks the first name. Tambryn goes bright red as they find her in the crowd. She moves with tentative steps towards her eventual doom, whispering through parted lips. Big red, block letters pop up on the screen: 'Fifth Place'. Next, her district partner is called. Compared to Tambryn, Maxim doesn't look so accepting, walking with a solemn face. Again, like with Tambryn, his words place him in fourth.

The screen changes. When I see the trees and blue sky, I recognise District Ten. Finch is called forward and walks, face tight. Someone says something and he reacts, angry with hurt eyes. He mounts the stage and leaves it there, his future already sealed. Did he know he would make it so far? When I climbed onto the stage, I only ever thought about my death. It shifts again and my heart clenches. District Twelve is stone and cold, the air thick and the ground wet. My heart palpitates harder and harder, seeing Jayden in the crowd. He moves and time slows down, my memory replaying those fateful images of his eyes draining of colour and life.

It shifts again; District Eight still looks different in my eyes.

Helene is called. Her face goes from porcelain to green in seconds, puke flooding from her mouth. I smile; Helene was such a good person. Then, I'm called. The boy on screen moves forward at the edge of the aisle, his face taut and free. He doesn't look worried, but I'm almost sure you can see the fear in his eyes. I remember that, how terrified I truly felt. Who knew that I'd be here, alive.

The screen moves again, revealing the chariot night. Each section gets a few seconds and my eyes widen, watching the themes blur pass. The one that stands out most is Adra and Harlow from District Eleven, their fruit-themed costumes turned slutty. It's sad, their frightful eyes... just another reason to hate what the Capitol does; it ages us beyond our years. District Eight, of course, gets longer, and me and Helene stand side-by-side in a mix and match of tartan and wool. Nothing spectacular, not like the other costumes. It really hits me how average we truly were, like we could never stand out. The Capitol adored the Careers, the outer volunteers Nerys and Wisteria, the little doe-eyed children and even burly Finch. He and Helene and even Jayden, we all faded in comparison. We had no hopes of gaining sponsors and possibly surviving.

It moves again. The constant moves make my eyes hurt, blasts of colour shooting outwards.

The interviews come next. Once more, everyone will get something. It helps me solidify their memories and understand them, seeing as Finch, Jayden, Maxim and Helene's are the only letters I've wrote. How can I write for people that are dead, whom I've never seen after the bloodbath and who died without my knowledge? This will help me, in a sickening way, and Grayson's words echo vibrate through my mind as they travel through. Fedora Clos is cunning and smooth. Bliss Promenade is sweet and kind, gaining rapturous applause and being the only one to sweeten Hermes. Nerys West is chatty and confident, whereas Hamlet Althen is silent, being mute. Grey Slate gets slated, ironically, whilst Harlow Bellamy ends up shrinking into the seat.

It ends on me. I stare at the pale, round face and mop of brown hair, as if I'm not the same person. My angle? I was me, average, just like I had planned. Looks like it was the better choice after all, allowing me to fly under the radar.

Everything turns dark and my hands clasp together, fear burning through my veins. Here we go, Darek, it's time to watch no matter how sick it makes you feel.

"They fought to the death. They fought for the righted place as Victor."

The screen is still dark before a flash of neon green zooms across. The crowd move and chatter, their excitement building. The colours only make me disoriented. Then, it fills, turning full as the seconds reach zero and the blood is shed. Like with tradition, only the deaths will be shown, sparing me any longing pain.

Grey Slate falls first, head smashed in by Hamlet Althen. His lifeless corpse is the one of many to come.

Next goes Alder Hawthorne from District Seven, Bliss Promenade's sweet shell breaking, a murderous push stemming into her fingers and into the blade, plunging into his chest. My eyes wide and I hear Hermes giggle. She played the game. No-one can hate her for that.

Next falls Hamlet Althen, ironically. He targets Genevieve Arlen from District Four, but she powers back. She kicks into him and he loses his footing, falling straight onto the spear that pierces his throat.

Whose next? It's not Helene, surely? I gulp thickly, but it's okay, because Adra Church's name falls onto the grid below. His death is normal, nothing special, and as sickening as it sounds, I'm almost glad when he is finally killed by Magnus Croft, another Career. His life ended swiftly, and no matter what, it's better than being tortured.

Helene's name joins the bottom. She's next, and I hold my breath. They show the entire fight between us and the two warring Careers, until finally, Dione Martell pulls a whip around her throat and strangles her. My heart quickens and guilt floods through me, making my hands shake. It's only then do I realise that Magnus was pushing as hard as he could, meaning... meaning... my body willed me there when I could've saved her...

Savannah DeBeaux emerges through the tunnel with an arrow in her shoulder. She's caught by the Careers, though, and her ally runs when Fedora's arrow implants into her skull.

With that ends the bloodbath... I try and slow down my breathing, feeling the beads of sweat forming on my forehead.

They skip straight pass me and Jayden forming, despite our apparent importance. They don't even show anything until, suddenly, Nadia Halifax of District Six is running out, wild, eyes glossed over before Jayden's district partner, Wisteria, kills her. Straight after, Wisteria Arnette falls to Tambryn's stab.

They briefly show me and Jayden fighting off the Careers, coming off better than worse. When we hug, the crowd melts into gushes.

Dione Martell is next. For this, I don't feel guilty. I finally feel light and free, as I watch her fight and lose to Nerys, who proceeds to whip her into almost unconsciousness. Then, a taser is brought to life and falls into the water. Her body convulses and twists, screams piercing the screen and making even the hardcore fans recoil in disgust. Yet, I feel fine. She killed Helene, and she deserves this. She was willing to kill... she deserves fire and brimstone and more. She's one person who won't be receiving my letter, nor Magnus for that matter.

My heart lurches when they show Piper Oxalis from District Ten, running through the tunnels. An arrow finds her back, followed by another, before she finally calls. Fedora ends up quickly and my eyes snap shut, the image unbearable. Scratch that, Fedora isn't getting one either. All of those monsters don't deserve their lives honoured in any way, shape or form.

It's only then, do I realise, that the deaths are running quick. Why so fast? Maybe it's me. Maybe my mind is just seeing what it needs to see, avoiding the damaging evidence that could break me. A bead of sweat falls along the edge of my nose and I swipe it away, realising that I'm sweating out of every pore.

Disgusted, I start to wipe frantically, only glancing up when I notice the tunnel moving and the screams echoing out. I pay attention, seeing Fedora aim his pointed arrow between Harlow and Maxim. Eventually, she runs, and the arrow makes chase until she too falls onto the corpse grid below. Just another number to the Capitolites... but, Fedora doesn't shoot Maxim. The Careers walk and Fedora has every chance to wipe them clean, yet, he doesn't. Maxim scurries away with an unconscious Tambryn. For a moment, it lingers, until Fedora reveals a small pocket knife and begins to cut himself.

He did that, just so the little one could escape. I mentally put Fedora back on the list.

The other large alliance is next. Brigan, Bliss and Lux, gathered together. They talk, their faces turn red, before a heated argument is obvious. They broke, something I can proudly say that neither me nor Jayden ever did. We were compatible, that way... we were fools who didn't realise that the pain would be unbelievable. Bliss slaps Brigan and runs, vanishing into the black. But, the screen turns, revealing her perched against the curve, a bloodied knife held out. She looks cunning, those tears having been swept from her face. She looks monstrous, deadly, before she pounces out and strikes. Brigan falls unconscious after a few cracks against the wall, before Lux has the knife plunged into him. He dies, barely cold corpse splashing in the water. She nears Brigan, before the camera skips ahead.

The crowd groans. I snap my head towards them, feeling disgusted. Are they disappointed? Was Bliss' charade not good enough? I try and calm myself down, hating the anger that takes control. Violently shaking, I try and calm down, but the screen only returns to Bliss and Brigan. She toys with him, lips miming something. She snaps his head again, forcing him awake. Of course, she doesn't give him a chance, before she lunges and attacks.

But, I remember her face on the ceiling before him. I smile sadly when a weakened Brigan defeats her. I mentally scribble her name from my list... she was as bad as the Careers.

I try and control my breathing again, but the thoughts are clear. I can only see Jayden and his smile, his eyes, his charming personality that brought light into a darkened place. No matter what I do, I can never bring him back. I can never save someone who knew me better than I did. He understood me, put up with me and my slight self-deprecation, yet managed to bravely kiss me and defend me.

Magnus dies next. I tune out slightly. Well, he's not getting a letter, and I'd rather not see his death. Yet, I catch a peak of the fight after hearing a clash of metal and groaning. Genevieve overpowers him for a second, but it's Fedora who really subdues the beast, onto his knees like he forced me to do so many times when we met. But as a twist, the camera shows Genevieve nailing the sword through his torso.

I'm impressed. I nod thoughtful, wiping at my brow in an attempt to focus on something else. I'm surprisingly unaffected by some of these... deaths. I guess, because I stayed away from most tributes and killings, I can't grow attached or even feel guilty. I can only honor, which is what I plan to do... but it doesn't stop the Capitol from dancing on their graves. They won't be remembered because they're fallen, discarded because a new bunch will replace them.

It's the final ten now. The grid alters, placing Brigan's name. The screen chases him, but he's not even moving. My heart falters when you can see him bleeding out, dying and struggling and oh so alone... I just want to be there, just to help him. No-one should ever die alone. Bliss' body is nearby. The tunnels move. My breath hitches in my throat when it's clear that they plan on crushing him to death. What about his body? HIs family? Every part of me wants to scream in protest, as if saying it now might stop them.

It doesn't. With Bliss on top and walls pressed at the sides, both Bliss and Brigan's body were reduced into broken bones and cold organs, splattered.

Bile rises in my throat and I try not to gag, but the noise alerts Hermes, who leans forward, smirks with bright white teeth, before melting into the shadows once more.

Nerys is next. How does she die? The Careers are too fragile to kill anymore, you could see it in their eyes as Magnus was executed. Instead, it's Finch.

Something must happen, because one minute they're talking and then running, and then the next, Nerys is approaching him and forcing him into unconsciousness with the flick of her electrified taser. The crowd doesn't seem shocked; did they know this would happen all along? At least I know the outcome. I watch with wild eyes as Finch returns, almost bound, before they fight. Somehow, against all odds, Finch overpowers her in his weakened state and manages to straddle her. With a whip of his hand, he cracks her skulls a few times against the floor, before finally, you hear the pop and can see the blood spilling out into the water. Again, bile rises in my throat and I have to swallow, feeling the burn. Not long left, I remind myself.

The screen moves to the Careers. They all died one after the other... I guess they didn't last without a leader.

I can't tear my eyes away as the girls take on Fedora, pining him to the ground. Laise pours some white material into his mouth, and slowly, his chest stops rising. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the next one. My whole body rises and falls with nerves, knowing that the moment this is over, it'll focus on us... I don't want that, I don't want to relive Jayden again...

Laise and Genevieve fight, but it's forced and controlled, like their puppets on a string and the Capitol has them under their thumb. Their fight extends until their respective blades take the other out. They lay there, bleeding. Tears lean on my eyelashes and I sniff, shaking from the emotions. I can only picture Jayden, faint and scared, whilst I had to be his executioner. Their hands twine together as Laise joins the number, shortly followed by Genevieve. My heart raises and I hear the audience sound in awe, their complicated friendship being something that captured their hearts. A sad smile breaks out on my lips, tears still cascading, realising that me and Jayden weren't the only ones going through tough times.

District Nine is next. The tears don't slow down and I resort to placing my sleeve at my eyes, just to soak them away. I can't let the Capitol see me cry; I can't let them have that as well. I deserve something to myself.

Tambryn and Maxim are watching us. That's the first thing I notice, how me and Jayden are picking up the weapons and ready to do our plan, watched and examined. But, Maxim runs, and Tambryn has to chase. They stumble and stagger through the tunnels, falling down before Tambryn knocks Maxim into unconsciousness, something a lot of allies have been doing to the other in an act of betrayal.

She scoops him up, her lips miming a single word that's hard to miss:_ sorry._

She carries him through the tunnels, back to the Cornucopia. The table rises and she freezes, placing him down and quickly discarded of the backpacks. Then, she grabs Maxim again, stringing him up in front of the Cornucopia. Disgust fills my body again, Maxim hanging there in a crucified position, eyes still closed. Was no friendships sacred? It does explain the ropes I saw when I tried to comfort his mangled, chewed body.

The Mutts attack though, not longer after Maxim wakes up. The audience becomes jittery, the rustle of their complicated dresses and suits filling the air. I start to shake again, flashbacks of the monstrous little creatures gnawing away at the poor little boy... they get Tambryn, however, dragging her screaming body to the floor before they smother her, the sound of saliva and chewing drowning out her cries for help Maxim looks horrified, terror clear in his baby blues, before they work on breaking him down. He falls hard, tries to run, but it easily overpowered and forced into a fetal position on the floor.

Me and Jayden arrive. My heart skips a beat at the sight of him. Jayden, so brave and valiant and... so perfect to me.

We fight and my heart lifts, tears drying out as I watch as I courageously fight to save Maxim. The Mutts pause, as if their button has been pressed, as I rock Maxim's bloody head in my lap. His cannon sounds, though, and my mind grows through the same emotional battering that briefly tortured me. Finch is nearby, though, the camera zooming out to reveal him sneaking along the wall, heading for the tail of the horn.

This is it. This is what I wanted to avoid. I don't need... I don't need a repeat of this...

My eyes snap shut. No-one can tell me to open them...

I hear the beginning of the fight. I hear our cries, our words being shared and I can practically feel the hope radiating through the plasma. I can't bear it...

A cannon sounds. That's Finch.

Jayden... I may never see him properly again... I peel my eyes open, the want and need justifying the action. Jayden is injured, head cradled in my lap. My fingers instinctively curl, wanting to remember how his hair felt, the way his body lifted and fell... the Mutts attack and fear takes over, gluing my eyes shut. I whimper, hearing their snarls and hisses. No, no, no, no...

_Bang!_

My eyes snap open. I'm left there, knelt on the floor in his blood...

The screen turns black. "There we have it folks," Hermes cheers as the lights turn on. Instantly, I recoil, hiding my face behind my hands. "We've just got to relive each and every murder! Not to mention break Darek's sanity a little bit more, am I right?" the crowd roars in applause. "Precisely! So, Darek, care to retract your statement earlier? Friend or lover?" when I take to long to reply, he laughs. "Leaving those hardcore shippers on their toes is never fun!"

"None of this was ever fun..." I whisper back.

It all turns into a blur, answering Hermes' questions without emotion or thought. I just echo it out, like a drone or machine.

I have nothing left in me to say. Everything has been said and done. I'm broken, like the perfect Victor should be.

* * *

I walk through the streets of District Twelve, the bitter air blowing into my cheeks. I tug the fur hood over my head tighter, hoping no-one sees my face. I shouldn't be here, naturally. I should be on the train, in bed, ready to go back to District Eight tomorrow. Instead, I'm walking the cold streets in disguise, clutching onto the flimsy white letter as if it was my lifeline.

I avoid each lamppost, sticking to the ghastly shadows. I move fluid and quick, heading down the street with light steps, a smile on my face as I remember how me and Jayden had practiced our footsteps to match, just to avoid being caught. It worked well for us then, it should work well now.

Then, the sign comes into view, chipped and wrecked. Perona Sweet Shop, it says in bold letters.

I move faster, pulling the letter forth. The seal looks beautiful, something the family might treasure. I want them to know what their son did for me. How I'm going to live my life for him, because he gave his for mine. It might help them sleep at night. It might bring out an unspoken fire in their soul. It might not affect them. But, either way, they need to know.

I head towards the letterbox, carefully slipping the letter through. I stop, fingers hanging to the edge, as emotions flood my body.

Jayden's kiss. His hug. Fighting together until the end. When I punched him, and he laughed. Lips coated in sugary dust. A shaky hand holding a mighty weapon.

A friendship... a kinship... that'll last forever.

I push it through, a smile breaking out on my lips. The air breathes again, but it doesn't matter. I'm already slipping across town towards Wisteria's known address, thanks to Chiffon.

Each family will get something better to remember their child by, rather than the constant replay of their demise. It's the least I could do.

For the first time in a while, I feel hope. I feel like I could do everything impossible. I don't feel down and out, the guilt weighing heavily on me. I have hope, I have Chiffon and Velvet, I have my parents and my brothers, I have Pippin to care for like the older brother I can be... I have a life I need to lead.

And whilst I'll never forget, I'll never give up.

I'll make a difference, in Jayden's name.

* * *

******I Won't Give Up by Jason Mraz.**

* * *

**********The obituaries have been posted named _'Remember, Remember'_. Learn about all the tributes and what happened to their bodies. You'll notice that Darek doesn't have one, but that's because his future is unknown. Like tradition, he will appear in the next SYOT, Fight For Your Life as a mentor.**

**********Now that's done, you have some more questions I'd love for you to answer:**

_-Thoughts on the obituaries?_

_-Did you enjoy Claustrophobia overall?_

_-Thoughts on the writing, plots, characters in general, arena in general, basically anything?_

_-Anything that specifically catches your mind as a stand-out moment (it can be anything!)?_

* * *

**With this ends Claustrophobia! After what I would say as my weakness with Wild One, I feel happy. I never once not knew where I was heading, and had everything planned from the start. Sure, I edited it as I went on, but I felt like my writing has never been stronger. This story - and the characters - will forever hold a place in my heart. Oh, and say hello to Pippin ;D**

**On that note, each character was amazing. I've never had such a diverse, interesting cast before. They all had their quirks, even the worse, from Bliss' psychotic relation towards her book to Nerys' sex addiction, from Tambryn's fate to Thy Holy Adra Church.**

**Lastly, a thank you to all the submitters for their wonderful creations, the reviewers for being non-stop support and guiding me unknowingly, the favourites, followers and readers, just for being that awesome. And, to my friends, you guys drive me insane, particularly Megan and her nickname trending... but you make this story even more real for me.**

**So with this, I bid goodbye to Claustrophobia! You've been wonderfully intense and dramatic.**


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